


Mass Effect 2: A Matter of Trust

by ere_the_sun_rises (orphan_account)



Series: A Matter of Change [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Multi, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Paragade Commander Shepard, Paragon Commander Shepard, Renegon Commander Shepard, Star Trek References, Story Arc, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, Triplets, it's mass effect so there's going to be one metric fuckton of feels, plus some side stuff in here too, romantic subplot ohoho, sibling feels, the squad is just a massive brofest ok, three Shepards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 74,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ere_the_sun_rises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Really, though, growing up on Omega should have hardened me into an ice-cold bitch that doesn’t give two shits, or even one. Still, though, that one damn memory that comes back to me every time I close my eyes- I’m sure that has to be what’s responsible for my anxiety, the scared little girl (munchkin) that’s still desperately looking for someone’s approval. Sure, grown-up, hardassed Glenn has completely stopped caring. Munchkin, well. Munchkin is the name of my 600-gogelbyte list of inhibitions.</i><br/> </p><p>Glenn is an info broker, hacker, and forensics specialist who's grown up on the streets of Omega- one day, her world is suddenly and inextricably changed by the arrival of the brother of a ghost (and subsequently, the ghost herself), both who want different things from her: first, and more simply, John Shepard wants her to find out Archangel's identity. Secondly, and a bit more complicated, Charlie Shepard wants her to join a suicide mission to hit the Collectors where they live. And that doesn't even start on the third one.</p><p>*UNDER MAINTENANCE*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Story Index

**Author's Note:**

> Credit, as always, is to Bioware and the amazing team that brought these games into being. This is the first installment in an ongoing series, so read and review! I hope you enjoy this tale of three Shepards, as told by Glenn.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An index of the major players in _A Matter of Trust._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All pictures here were yielded from Google image search; except for Paxton, Glenn, and Charlie (custom Shepards. I have face codes if anyone wants them). Sheploo and the rest belong to Bioware, and their amazing team. Full disclaimers and notes inside.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. An Offer of Business

             _Just wait here, munchkin, we’ll be back._

_We’ll be back._

_Just wait here…we’ll be back…_

_Wait here, munchkin._

_Just wait here._

_We’ll be back._

_We’ll be…_

“You’re Glenn?”

            I have to stifle a gusty sigh at the voice behind me. “What of it?” I wince; the reply comes out snappier than I meant it. Part of me doesn’t give two shits about how I sound to people that talk to me when I’m nursing my end-of-day headache with alcohol and exotic dancers (though some would argue the pounding lights and noise in Afterlife would be counter-intuitive). Story of my life, really. Can’t stand the establishment, can’t do without what’s in it. Let it never be said I come for anything other than illegal liquor imports and blue asari ass.

            Sweet, blue asari ass.

            Really, though, growing up on Omega should have hardened me into an ice-cold bitch that doesn’t give two shits, or even one. Still, though, that one damn memory that comes back to me every time I close my eyes- I’m sure that has to be what’s responsible for my anxiety, the scared little girl (munchkin) that’s still desperately looking for _some_ one’s approval. Sure, grown-up, hardassed Glenn has completely stopped caring. Munchkin, well. Munchkin is the name of my 600-gogelbyte list of inhibitions.

            So, “What of it?” I snap, and wince. Because it sounds _impolite._ It gives me brief pause; usually I’m automatically pissy at everyone just because everyone on Omega’s mean-spirited when they talk to you (golden rule, you know, treat people the way you want to be treated, except, due to a streak of textbook narcissism a mile wide, I skip that entirely and assume everyone else is keeping it in mind) - but the voice that had just addressed me sounded off in that regard. It was…nice. Humane and friendly in that sort of way you only hear with A) pimps or B) right before someone shoves a knife between your scapula. I didn’t get a knife, which left the pimp, but the guy behind me was a very unsuccessful pimp if he was working the profession- very poorly dressed, obviously short on credits. Kind of a hottie, though. Briefly I considered _jigglo_ , but even the bad male prostitutes were cleaner than he was. Plus, the unsightly scars on his lips were a bit of a turn-off.

            “No thanks, buddy, I prefer to have mindless sex with the ones that can’t get me pregnant,” I told him. Trying to be funny, something I’ve tried, sometimes succeeded, oftentimes failed at.

            Scar lips gave me a condescending look. “What? I’m- I’m not here to have sex with you.”

            “Well, good, cause the answer was no.” I spun around in my seat, crossed my arms at him and lifted an eyebrow. “You look both out of place and focused on…whatever it is. I assume that’s why you’re talking to me?”

            “I asked for the best hacker and information broker on Omega.” He waved a hand at me. “They told me to go to you.”

            “Aw, flattering.” I stirred the paper umbrella in my drink. “So it’s business you’re here to talk about. Well, normally I’d be happy to oblige, but I’m nursing my end-of-day migraine and most of my higher brain functions have been devoted to scoping out who I’m going to be banging tonight, but I’d reconsider depending on the goods.” Sipped, casually, from said fruity drink.

            Scar lips shoots me a searching look that gives me the odd compulsion to stand at attention. Maybe he was military? His hair was just the right length of “not going to be bald but pretty damn close”, and, well, scars. Built like an Adonis, too, not like anyone in this century knows what an Adonis even is. It only took humanity three decades to forget its roots. “What do you mean, ‘the goods’?”

            I drained the last of my cocktail out the straw. “You already answered your own question, soldier. I’m an information broker. Obviously if you’re looking for me, you’ve got something to fulfill transaction for my services. At least, I _hope_ you do, because otherwise this has been a complete waste of my time.”

            “I might have something,” he said, blue eyes narrowing even further into little slits. “How’d you know I was a soldier?”

            “You just told me.” I snorted. “Come on; soldiers are easy to spot here, you can see the stick up your ass a mile away.” I slid off the stool. “Now, if you’ve got the goods I’ve probably got the service. Take this somewhere more private, you read me?” Obligingly, he followed me, away from the pounding music and the flashing lights, into the sour streets I called home. Well, not like I had much choice; they were all I’d ever known.

            “So what brings a soldier out here? You undercover for the Alliance?”

            “Ex-Alliance. I…you can say I retired.”

            “You mean you deserted.”

            “How’d you get that?”

            “You just told me, genius. And you’re too young to be retired. And only deserters come to Omega. You’re hiding from the brass.”

            “You sheltered many deserters?”

            “I help them disappear, if they can afford it. I’ve learned a lot of dirty secrets about the Alliance.” I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I could start a war.”

            “Brilliant,” I heard him mutter, behind me.

            “I know, sometimes I impress myself.”

            “If you’re so impressed, why don’t you ever go ahead and do it?”

            I rolled my eyes. “God damn, soldier, ever heard of ‘just because you can doesn’t mean you should’? I have nothing to profit from setting Earth and whoever else at each other’s throats. Some people might jerk off to body counts and explosions, but I’m not one of them. Did you desert, or did they discharge you for dumbassery in the line of duty?” I dodged into a side alley, walking past a few batarians and resolutely not making eye contact. “Still; age-old saying, knowledge is power. People like power, I’m no exception. Besides.” I stopped at the door, pulled up my omni-tool and implemented the access code and retinal scan. “Keeps me off the streets and out of the brothels, that’s a victory in itself.”

            He followed me inside.

            “You live here?” he asked, looking around at the wall-to-wall monitors.

            “Yep,” I said. “One sec while I check for bugs, explosive ordinances, and tech interference.” I pulled up the scan. “And don’t look at anything too closely, or I’ll have to kill you.” He folded his hands behind his back and stared stoically ahead at a rare space of blank wall. “All right, we’re clear. Power down,” I said, and the monitors obligingly shut off. The lamps came on, and a soft orange light filled the room. I spread my arms, gesturing about. “Welcome. Everyone needs a home base, right?” I sat down on one of the leather chairs, crossing my legs and folding my hands, elbows on the rest. “So, soldier. What’ve you got for me?”

            He sat across from me, pulled up his own omni-tool and punched in a security code that I had catalogued and filed away in a second. “You know Archangel?”

            I snorted. “Course I do, there isn’t a soul on Omega who hasn’t. The merc groups want to kill him, the freelancers want to be him, and Aria T’Loak’s got her panties in a wad trying to deal with him.” Chuckle, slightly. “Course I know Archangel.”

            He turned his arm; I leaned in, looking at the files that started popping up. “I’ve got my suspicions about Archangel’s identity.” Pictures, first, a turian- looked like a Citadel cop, with light blue face paint and a sniper rifle in hand. “I might have known him, if it comes down to it.”

            I scooted forward, starting pulling files onto my own interface. “And what do you want me to do?”

            “Run a match,” he said. “I know you don’t have much to go on, but if you could run this with what you know…”

            I took the files, stood and crossed to one of the terminals. “Power on, XA1.” As the screen flickered to life I punched in the files, throwing them up onto the right of the UI and then pulling up all known data on Archangel on the other side. “Well, he _is_ a turian. Can’t ID the face; he’s always wearing his helmet. _But_ , he is wearing C-Sec colors, indirectly. A bit obscure, but it could make a point.” With a flick of my fingers I scrambled Scar lips’ data and that of my own, and pulled up security vids from a slavers’ ring he’d busted. I froze the frame and lined up a shot of the C-Sec cop- “The build, though, it looks about right. Height’s roughly the same, stance looks similar.” I flicked through more footage, scanning rapidly with my eyes. “And he favors a sniper rifle; looks like your guy did too.”

            “It was his baby,” confirmed Scar lips, watching seriously over my shoulder.

            “Then, that’s all I can really get on him, unless…” I paused suddenly, catching the hint of a voice in the feed. “Reverse and hold at 64.9, sharpen midground sound, jam ambient noise.”

            It wasn’t much. A snippet, really. But it was something: “ _Bastards. Look at this. Despicable._ ”

            Scar lips’ breath seemed to force out of him in a _whoosh,_ and he stepped dazedly back.

            “That him?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

            “Yeah,” said Scar lips, quietly.

            I collapsed the files, stored them under the secure sections of my server, and allowed myself a victorious little smirk. “Well, there we are. The great Archangel unmasked. Garrus Vakarian, ex-C-sec, hailing from Palaven. Spent a few months on the SSV _Normandy_ SR1, disappeared in the weeks following Commander Shepard’s death in action.” I turned back to Scar lips. “So, wait. You said you knew him. And you’re Alliance. So-”

            “I was on Charlie’s crew.” He winced. “Commander…Shepard’s.” he looked up at me, an almost-mournful look in his eye. “She was my sister.”

            I faced him a while, unblinking.

            “I was on the ship, when…” he shook his head. “The brass dealt with it so badly. First they wanted to cover it up. Then, they wouldn’t even allow us a proper service. We never got her body back. We had a private memorial service, just us, her crew. A few weeks later, Garrus disappeared. No notes, saying where he’d gone. Nothing. He just vanished. Paxton- our other sister, the youngest…she was heartbroken. They’d been close, and, I think it hurt her when he left without saying goodbye.” He shook his head. “I’ve been looking for him ever since.”

            I blinked.

            “Well. That’s a sad story. Maybe it worked on the poor sap who hitched you a ride here, but I’m feeling nothing right about now.” My fingers tightened suddenly on the armrest. “And you. You said you’re doing this for her sister’s sake, but if you’re all she has left, what does it make you that you’re abandoning her too?”

            _Just wait here, munchkin._

He hung his head, fiddling his hands together uncomfortably, guiltily. “She’s…on Illium, working with an old friend. I’ve been sending her letters…she thinks I’m on Feros, helping out a colony we saved a while back.” He looked back up at me, brows knitted back together. “She doesn’t know where I am. Or what I’m doing. I…didn’t want to bring her into harm’s way.”

            “She can’t handle herself, is that it?”

            “No, she can. Best biotic I’ve ever seen. One of the best, anyway. I…didn’t want to get her hopes up.” He sighed. “She really cared about Garrus. I wasn’t sure there was any hope. Now…”

            “So what are you planning to do, Mr. Shepard?”

            He looked down at the floor for a while, eyes suddenly deep and intense, brows furrowed, thinking, hands wringing.

            “I’m gonna find Garrus. I’m gonna punch him in the mandibles. And I’m gonna drag him back to Illium and remind him what’s important. Playing vigilante here…I don’t know what homage he’s trying to pay for Charlie, but she’s been gone two years now. It’s time to let go of the dead and focus on the living.”

            I crossed my legs again. “You do realize I’m the only one who can probably track this guy down in the field? I’d like to see you try running forensics, much less taking him alone in a fight.”

            “It won’t come to a fight.”

            “All right.” I crossed my arms, and waited for the catch.

            “But I’ll need you to get me there.”

            I sighed. “Knew you’d say that. All right, what’s in it for me?” I stood, hands on my hips.

            “Adventure. A good fight. I’m sure we’ll have to fight someone.”

            “Right. What if I don’t want to? No one can fault my excellent sense of self-preservation.”

            He stepped back, crossed his arms, and quirked half a smile. “Quit playing hard to get. I’m going, and you can come if you want. Just tell me yes, or no.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Right, fine.” I stood up, powered off the terminal. “I’m going with you to Illium, though. It’ll be fun to see how this hellcat sister of yours reacts to Mandibles showing up after two goddamned years. _Ha,_ God, I haven’t had a good laugh in a while. Just don’t think you’re gonna be a cooler biotic than me, I run this sector,” I told him, gesturing about in a circle.

            He frowned at me. “How’d you know I was…?” Then, he stopped himself, nodding to himself. “I just told you.”

            Smirk. “See, you’re catching on.” I walked by him to my door, punching in the code to my locker and pulling out my trusty carnifex. “Amp jack, Mr. Shepard.” I headed out into the streets again, Scar lips trailing slowly behind me.


	3. A Simple Matter of Technological Sabotage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again- all credit to Bioware and their akfjlhksflhskashflkhasflkhalshfk team. I want to give them all a giant hug. Enjoy!

Finding the way to Archangel was easy, probably the easiest bit of any of it. The Blue Suns were running a recruitment booth back at Afterlife, signing on anyone with a gun to come take him down.

“If the Pack, the Suns, _and_ the Eclipse are after him, they’re more desperate than I thought,” I commented, sliding into line. “And they’re not being picky about the freelancers they’re signing. Your buddy Garrus has done a bang-up job pissing people off.”

“Well, we’re getting him out,” muttered Scar lips back to me. “Then, we get the hell off this damned station and set a course straight for Illium.”

“Which you realize is Omega in expensive shoes, right?” I deadpanned.

He sighed at me.

“A wretched hive of scum and villainy,” I drawled, “-wrapped up in a silk bow.”

Scar lips made no reply.

“Come on, nothing?”

“Hmm?” he tore his eyes away from- whatever he was looking at- which turned out to be a sleeveless Suns guy, flexing to show off his new ink.

“Pitiful needlework,” I muttered, examining the poorly-drawn design from afar. What was so goddamn special about a barbed wire bicep tat, besides the fact that you may as well have inked ‘I have no imagination’ into your arm?

“What, you were saying something?” Scar lips pressed, rubbing a reddening neck and sneaking another quick look back.

“Wretched hive of scum and villainy?” I repeated. “Come on, old Earth vid. 1970s.”

Scar lips shot me an incredulous look. “You watch two hundred-year-old vids?”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” I shrugged, “And clearly, yours is taking it in the ass.”

Immediately he spluttered- “What?”

“Come on,” I drawled, “There’s asari ass hanging out every which way and you decide to eyefuck the hunk over there? My gaydar’s going _BEEP BEEP BEEP BOTTOM THIS BOY IS A BOTTOM_.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, resorting to the age-old childish cross-arms-and-pout, reddening.

“Oh, God,” I started to giggle. “You are _so_ gay.”

“I’m not justifying this to you.”

“You don’t have to,” I snorted, “I like dicks just as much as you do. But, _Shep-_ ” I bent over, wheezing. “You’ve got to embrace the _rainbow_.”

“You’re childish.”

“Keep it up, you know, people might just think we’re a couple,” I straightened up, grinned, linking our arms. “I’ll be your beard,” I told him, eyeballing the stubble mapping his jaw. “Obviously you’re having trouble growing your own.”

“You know, you remind me of this guy I served with once-” he groaned, mopping wearily at his face.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I sighed, leaning on his shoulder. “Did he have a better beard than you?”

“No,” he snapped, looking resolutely away from my best moon eyes, sighing. “Yes.”

I snorted, jabbed him in the side, and progressed to the clerk. It was our turn. The batarian looked up and raised a- flesh above top left eye…thing? “Weeeell, aren’t you sweet. You’re in the wrong room, honey; strippers’ quarters are that way.” He jabbed a thumb to his right.

I pulled my pistol, juggled it a little between a few fingers. “Show me yours, tough guy. I bet mine’s bigger.”

“Impressive,” he conceded. “Same as everyone else- you’ll get paid when the job’s done, you’ll need your own weapons and armor- looks like you have that covered.” I replaced my pistol, flicked an imaginary speck of dust off the shoulder of my coat and straightened out the inky leather tails. “And this does not make you a member of the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, or Eclipse. You are a freelancer, period.”

I crossed my arms, and Scar lips moved up behind me. “Where do we go?”

“There’s a transport depot outside the club,” the batarian provided. “One of our guys will drive you out to the barricade.”

I nodded. “Right, then. To the barricade!” arms raised, lively point, aggressive stance, _aaaaand_ silence.

“If that was a reference,” Scar lips told me, “I missed it.”

I let the arms go, sighed. “Story of my life.”

As we left, someone else was coming in- a scruffy kid with a beanie, a pistol tucked into the front of his pants. “Is this where you sign up?”

I was inclined to keep going, but I stopped when I heard Scar lips’ voice. “Aren’t you a little young to be freelancing as a merc?”

“I grew up on Omega!” the kid protested, in a whiney eighteen-year-old voice. “I know how to use a gun!”

“Enough to get yourself killed,” I muttered, briefly rolling my eyes.

“Besides, I just spent fifty creds on this pistol, and I want to use it-” Scar lips took it from him with ease. “Hey!”

“Get your money back.” With a trained eye, Scar lips smacked a misaligned magazine and popped a bad heat sink, shaking out the sparks and handing it back with the safety engaged. “Trust me.”

As we left, I frowned, looked up to him. “What’d you say your name was again?”

“Shepard,” he told me, “John Shepard.”

“Right,” I said. “Right, John, okay. Short and sweet. Easy to remember. John.”

“Let’s go, Glenn,” he said, ignoring my bullshit and leading out towards the transport hub. Huh, he was learning fast.

The driver waiting for us by the cars was yet another batarian in a Suns uniform, quadru-eyeballing our approach.

“You the getaway driver?” I questioned. “Don’t answer that. I’m not stupid, I know what the job is. Quid pro quo. Human make joke, ha ha funny.”

“I just met her,” sighed John, resignedly gesturing, “in the bar.”

The driver grunted. “Ain’t that the truth.” John climbed in beside me, the batarian into the front, and a moment later we were lifting off and pulling away. “About time they actually sent me someone who looks like they can fight,” the driver commented. He set us down a ways away from the familiar echo of gunfire off the steel/meteor trap that was Omega, gesturing down the tunnels. “Archangel is holed up at the end of the boulevard. The only way in’s an extremely exposed bridge,” he turned back to us. “It’s a killing ground. A lot of people’ve died that way already- but he’s getting tired, making mistakes.”

“Right, so, the plan?” I pulled my pneumonic visor out of my pocket and locked it around my ears. The interface flickered to life, targeting all heat signatures and pinpointing weak spots and flaws in defenses. The batarian had a crack in his armor on his right side- the appropriate strike would spear his lung with a shard of his own breastplate. The first barricade behind him was hinging on one sturdy crate- knock that out and the whole thing came crashing down.

“You should find Sergeant Cathka,” the batarian concluded. “Just down the tunnels.”

I took John by the elbow, tugged him through the first barricade, turned back. “Is your gun loaded?”

He patted his side. “All three of them.”

“Good man.” The visor picked up a large group of people in the next room, and I ID-ed the symbol on their yellow plates when we rounded the corner. Eclipse. Omega’s Eclipse- Jaroth’s Eclipse. Perhaps in another life I walked right through that room and didn’t talk to anyone, but Jaroth looked up and spotted me instantly.

“Glenn,” he said, sitting back, regarding me with his bulbous eyes. “Have you come for Archangel as well, or are you here to hack our servers again?”

“Your own damn fault your code was so simple,” I retorted, spreading my arms like Aria T’Loak’s liked to do when she told newcomers ‘I _am_ Omega’ (happened two to three times a night in Afterlife). “Jaroth. Eclipse. Good to see you again. And no, I’m not here for your intel. It sucks. And not the fun kind.” Jaroth bristled. “Besides, I’ve already gleaned what useless crap I could from you guys. No, me and my buddy here are for Rapunzel up in his defensive turret.”

Jaroth shook his head at me. “Jona Sideris screamed my hearing out over that,” he muttered. “However, she also told me to double the previous offer. Twice the pay; and a position as a high-ranking officer. You’ll be given your own unit, and a- what is it humans say? ‘Corner office?’” watching aliens with three fingers do the finger quote thing humanity had brought to the galaxy was particularly entertaining; in being so they could only do the _doot doot_ with one appendage.

John whistled lowly, crossing his arms. I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about negotiations- first; you’re making it quite obvious you’re desperate to have me-”

“I know that _I_ don’t have to waste the time screwing around with you pandering humans!” he was out of his chair in a second, knocking it over, putting us nose to nose. There was the click of John training his gun on the salarian and the Eclipse training their guns on John-

I waved him off, looked directly to Jaroth, giving myself a moment. My visor helpfully informed me it would be tactically advantageous to punch Jaroth in the eye. “Pandering, huh?” I said, soft, quietly readying the crackling corona in my hand. “Well, I digress; sometimes we do indulge in knocking around a few racists.” I jammed the hand into his gut before he could react, throwing him back against the wall with a loud clank. Two asari went to his aid, and I turned to leave without another word.

“What was that?” John asked, trotting after me on really long legs.

“My biotics,” I replied, “throwing people against the walls.” I looked at him. “Oh, you mean the salarian bastard? Jaroth, leader of Omega’s Eclipse. We’ve been at each other’s throats for years now; I can’t kill him, because then I’d have Eclipse after my ass, and he can’t kill me, because his boss wants him to recruit me. I’d rather drink a cup of acid after chewing on a razor than jump in with those bastards, though, so we’re pretty much locked into an eternal standoff.”

John looked at me, bewildered, when I hooked a turn into a storage hall. “What’s this?”

“Eclipse heavy mechs,” I told him, stepping up to the terminal. “And…now their IFF is screwed. As soon as they deploy this baby they’re gonna be in for quite a surprise. Come on; don’t even talk to the Blood Pack. Just keep walking.”

“Filthy humans!” a vorcha in red hissed after us. We didn’t reply.

The Suns were at the last barricade before the bridge; the Echo infiltration team standing guard around a small gunship. “Cathka?” I questioned, and the first one jerked his thumb behind him. A batarian rose from the guts of the gunship (the funship, I liked to say), turning off his welding torch and turning his visor to transparent. “ _Sergeant_ Cathka,” he told us.

 _Some_ body was touchy about his undoubtedly small dick.

“You’re the freelancers Salkie radioed me about,” Cathka remarked, after looking us over. “You know what the plan is?”

“Try not to die,” John confirmed.

“Good man,” Cathka said, pointing a wrench. “You’re the distraction. Stay alive long enough for the Echo Team to go in.” John and I exchanged looks, and I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my trench coat. “You going in with them?”

He looked back to the gunship, shaking his head. “No- I just make the plans and fix the gunship.” He paused, listening intently to his helmet. “Echo Team, deploy now!” he called, and the squad that had been standing guard around him picked up their guns and headed out to the barricade. He watched them go, looked once more to us, and flicked his visor back to the opaque. “Which means it’s time for you two to go- and no more waiting for me.” he turned back to the gunship, bending to pick up the welding torch again. “Tarak wants her back at a hundred percent before he takes her out again.”

It happened all in the space of five seconds: a blue spark from something on the work table caught my eye- an electrical jargon, used for soldering wires and other things, still crackling with visible charge. Five hundred volts, easy. One twenty to the heart to kill a human. _And how many will drop a batarian, I wonder?_ I stepped up, took the thing up carefully by its insulated handle, and strode the negotiable distance to Cathka’s bent back. “You’re working too hard,” I told him, and jammed the sharp end between his shoulderblades.

The batarian led out an echoing scream as the amps raced through his bloodstream, pouring the watts into his heart and dropping his jerking corpse on the ground. John made a vague noise of disgust behind me, and I crouched by the body to pull the jargon back out, take his visor and put it on, and flip open the weapons systems.

“What are you doing?” John asked me, lowly.

“Best I can in thirty seconds,” I replied. “Timed detonation; I’m not sure exactly how long it’ll be, but less than ten minutes after they put this thing in the air it’s gonna blow apart starting with the fuel tanks.” I finished wiring the timer, locked the encryption software, and burned the control panel shut. “And they can’t get in there to fix it.” I swung back out of the cockpit, heard, distantly, the sound of men dying in the distance.

John craned his neck. “Sounds like the infiltration team are getting their asses handed to them,” he remarked.

I drew my Carnifex. “Never a better place to hide than in a shitstorm. Let’s go.”


	4. A Meeting of Old Friends, as Observed by an Outsider

When we vaulted over the barricade, we both locked into a combat mode; everything hyperfocused around us and we settled into a sort of dance, a deadly rhythm, a noxious beat, and from the first moment I could tell we had a beautiful chemistry. He shot, I swung; he yanked the Suns out of the air with a solid pull, and I put holes in said Suns gangster. Our biotics meshed seamlessly, complimenting each other, triggering massive explosions that knocked the rest of the infiltration team back to the wall with heady crunches.

One sniper rifle’s shot _zing_ ed right through John’s pant leg. He shied away instinctively away from the bullet, glaring up at the balcony where the helmeted turian was scoping with a Widow. “Dammit, Garrus,” he muttered.

“There’s a possibility he doesn’t know it was you,” I put in.

“There’s a possibility that he might have _had_ to, seeing as she shot me in the pants,” John snapped, throwing up a biotic barrier. “Let’s get up there.”

I added my own strength to the shield, and together we crossed the remainder of the plaza, hiked up the stairs and raced around the corner into the mezzanine with our guns drawn.

Archangel turned to face us, but he lowered his rifle almost immediately. He set it down, in fact, by a pile of crates, reached up and pulled the helmet off, dropping it by the boxes and taking a perch upon them. Facing me was the turian from the files; Garrus Vakarian.

“Shepard,” he said, acknowledging John. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to say the same to you,” John said, through his teeth, stepping up and leaning in close. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through tracking you down? Deserting the Alliance, following you to the biggest pisshole in the galaxy, hiring a goddamned information broker to run a match on you-”

“Hi,” I said, “Don’t think we’ve met.” They both ignored me.

“I didn’t ask you to follow me here,” Garrus growled back.

“I didn’t do this for my own sake, if it was up to me I’d let you rot here,” John snapped. “I came for Paxton.”

The name gave Garrus significant pause- his eyes widened, mandibles twitched. “…Paxton?” he parroted (What? Turians look like parrots.), in a small voice.

“Yeah, her,” John snarled, whipped around and paced a short distance in my direction. His shoulders sagged suddenly, then tensed. “You broke her heart, Garrus. You left without a fuckin’ goodbye. That’s a new level of shitty, even for you.”

I didn’t know puppy eyes until Garrus Vakarian made them. “I…I didn’t think she cared.”

“Didn’t think she _cared_?” John whipped around, glaring him down again. “Garrus, would I track you to the ends of the civilized galaxy if she didn’t care? You hurt her. I came to get you, and drag you back. I don’t even know what all this is for,” he gestured around.

“Uh…guys?” I spoke up, gesturing back at the barricade.

“It needs to stop, and you need to remember what’s important. You need to come with me to Illium. That’s where she is now. You’re gonna apologize, goddammit, and I don’t ever want to see your sorry ass again-”

“Guys!” I barked, “Can we have the pissing contest later?” the both of them whipped to me and noticed the Eclipse pouring into the plaza.

“Heavy mechs!” Garrus announced, rolling into a sniper’s crouch.

“Should take care of itself,” I muttered, kneeling behind the wall. “Looks like they know their little infiltration team failed.”

Sure enough, as I saw, the heavy mech whirled on its hinges as soon as it was deployed, and began firing on its captors. The Eclipse scattered, screaming, and in the chaos- before some engineer finally had the good sense to overload it- most of the yellow-plated men (including Jaroth) were gunned down. From there, it was a simple matter picking off the survivors and delivering a sizzling headshot to the YMIR that had it shuddering sparks and blowing suddenly and violently up.

There was a brief second of peace as we all scanned the plaza, before John straightened up and spat, “I know what your excuse is and I’m gonna preemptively call bullshit. Charlie might have been your mentor and this might be your way of honoring her memory, fine, but she’s dead. She’s been dead two years. Don’t you get it? It’s no damn good if you’re forgetting the living to boot.”

Garrus had no answer for John, he just avoided his eyes- I, for one, had heard enough. “Look, can we save this for the ship to Illium? Right, you’ve got a past and whatever, but I for one have no idea what’s going on or what you’re talking about…” I sighed. “And we’ve still got two merc groups on our asses, so- put it on hold, okay?”

As with all man fights, a simple break of eye contact was enough to return them to their senses. “Right,” sighed John, scrubbing at his forehead. “Eclipse is out of the equation; that leaves the Suns and the Pack?”

“Garm might be dumb enough to charge the barricade,” I said, popping the heat sink on my pistol.

“Then again, maybe not,” muttered John, drumming his fingertips on the ledge. “I’ve fought with krogan warlords before. They’re damn crafty when they’re not in a blood rage.”

“True,” I acknowledged. “Well, that batarian Tarak- certainly desperate enough; and he’s sure to have noticed Cathka’s dead by now. He’s gonna be desperate.”

“He has the gunship, regardless of full repairs or not.”

“And I set the explosive timer on that one, don’t forget,” I noted. “We’ll only have to hide in cover until that blows.”

John frowned at me. “You’re sure it’s going to work?”

I propped my hip on a weapons bench. “I ID-ed your friend here. Trust me. Someone tells you impossible, you send it to me.”

Garrus’ eyes went distant, lost in thinking of something else, perhaps. “Which leaves the Blood Pack,” he said, breaking his trance and standing up. He towered a full foot and a half over me, maybe two. He cocked his rifle suddenly, eyes narrowing. “It’s been quiet too long. Something’s up.”

I cocked my Carnifex, tuned my ears for suspicious noise.

As if to confirm our suspicions, a sudden rattle that sounded like it’d come from below. I gestured to the others to stay put, and crept ahead on silent feet learned from streetside espionage. There was an outbreak of yells and gunshots- the thud of bodies smacking against the metal walls of the back passages. A shutter door slammed closed. I peered over the edge of the railway for a vantage point- there were more yells, the crackling sound of shields overloading at once. Then, the panicked screams and crackles of living things on fire. Then, the screams were cut off with several shots. A few low voices. Silence, the flames dying down. Then-

The door was struck once, groaning at its hinges. The yelling resumed, several guns opened fire, and an enraged krogan burst through the door headfirst, shotgun borne to breast in full blood rage.

“Charging krogan!” I called, and that was the last thing I got out before something huge and heavy smacked into me, throwing me back against the wall. The world swam in and out of focus, a slight warm sensation came over me as it all started fading to black.

There was a murky voice, two bulbuous black eyes hovering over me. “-going out,” a grizzled growl came through, not belonging to the owner of the eyes, I thought. It was hard to think with the void yawning at the edges of my vision. The eyes moved, another voice, higher, said something about, “-di-gel: will not solve head trauma, but will help until proper examination can be administered.”

“All right, all right,” the grizzled voice muttered, and a sudden cooling sensation on my forehead brought everything back into sharp focus. The lights were too bright, the smell of smoke and burning bodies made me want to puke, and there was a splitting ache felt acutely through my cranium that made me groan and curse. I wanted the warm nothing back.

“Registering pain,” said the eyes, which I saw to be a salarian in a lab coat, one of the appendages on his head somehow lost, like an elephant short half a tusk. “Good sign. Damage likely not permanent. Should regain major motor skills soon, hopefully, otherwise extraction…problematic.”

“Slow down,” I groaned, hiking myself up into a sitting position. “Holy hell,” I grunted, massaging at my head, wincing. “That krogan hit me like a skycar.”

“Skycars don’t shoot back,” said the grizzled voice- who turned out to be a man in yellow-plated armor that appeared to have had half of his face grafted back on after some untold horror. “And they don’t come in for another round.”

“Who are you?” I questioned, using the potted plant to get unsteadily to my feet. “How’d you get in?”

“Took the back ways, took care of Blood Pack, closed shutters behind us,” said the salarian, gesturing at the now-sealed back door. He paused, looked me head to toe, and extended a three-fingered hand, an off-white orange color. “Professor Mordin Solus. Xenoscientist.”

“Glenn,” I said, shaking it. “Hacker, info broker.”

“Had a feeling it was you,” said the grizzled graftee, who possessed a pair of mismatched eyes to boot and a head of (likely premature) grey hair. “Glenn, Omega’s Shadow Broker.”

“Believe me, the Shadow Broker’s alive and kicking in this sector,” I replied, shaking his hand as well. “I’ve worked with him before.”

“Yeah, but you get your own hands dirty, and that’s something I’ll respect,” said the graftee, as he let go of my hand. “Zaeed Massani.”

That was when it clicked. “Jen Bond’s Zaeed Massani.”

“The very same,” he growled (his voice was really just a growl), spitting onto the ground somewhere to the left. “Tomcat mentions you an awful lot, when our work brings us together. Closest godam thing she ever had to a sister, from what I hear.”

I snorted. “Ah, what have you. Jen took care of me when I was too little to do it myself. I get her the intel she needs. I owe her a debt I can never really repay, but I try my best.”

Zaeed chuckled. Mordin paused, turned away and pressed one finger to his ear (saying ear, because I don’t know what salarians call them) piece, listening. “Yes. Tunnels are clear. Lock is overrideable with squad protocol. Have identified three friendlies. Two are on list. Last one matches Shepard’s service history. Personal, too. Yes, will do so. Copy, out.”

“What’s going on here?” I asked, “Obviously you aren’t here alone. How many others are there?”

“Three others,” Mordin told me. “Introduce me to cohorts? Simple identification; must check for safety.”

I blinked. “Well…Garrus and John are over there,” I said, starting back that way. “Hey, guys, these are friendlies! Mordin Solus and Zaeed Massani, three others coming in through the back way.”

John and Garrus emerged from behind their cover, an overturned gogelbyte storage unit. Four blue eyes and one Kuwashii visor peeped up at the newcomers before straightening up.

“Archangel,” said Mordin, as he approached. “John Shepard. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Is the lack of the personal pronouns just a constant thing?” I muttered, to Zaeed.

“Is the godam pope Catholic?” he questioned back, and I grinned. “Catholic, or Cerberus?”

“What have you.”

“You said there are three others,” Garrus pressed, “Where are they now?”

“Approaching current position.”

“How did you know my name?” John cut in, brow furrowing.

Before the salarian could formulate a rapid-fire military brief answer, the door slid open below. Three sets of footsteps, distinctly human-sounding (could be asari) pattered up the stairs, and then the three faces appeared to us up on the pavilion. There was a woman in some very shapely N7 armor, who cut a rather imposing figure in her obscuring helmet, offering nothing but piercing blue eyes that looked suspiciously familiar. The two flanking her- an equally shapely woman with a catsuit and a tall black man in black leather medium-weight armor; both bearing the unmistakable Cerberus sigil, had a typical cronie-thug about face surveying us. Obviously they knew who we were already, and that was unsettling- that meant extensive background research, and there was no record on me but the word on Omega- and that came back to the Cerberus logo on lady-cronie’s right boob.

The N7 figure removed her helmet, tucking it under her arm, stepping slowly forward. “John?” she said, in a mildly stunned voice.

“Charlie?” said two voices as one (three, if you counted Garrus’ flanging subvocals), incredulous, weapons dropping loosely to sides.

“Garrus!” Charlie said first, dropping her helmet on an upturned shelf and jogging forward. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s what I was here for,” said John, intercepting her approach. “And I guess I could ask you the same thing.” Charlie seemed to deflate, and John continued, “You’ve been dead for two years, Charlie. I was there, I saw the _Normandy_ blow, I heard later from Joker about how you got spaced. The Alliance declared you killed in action.”

“The Commander _was_ killed in the Collector attack on the _Normandy_ SR1,” lady-cronie informed us, revealing a decidedly Aussie dialect. “The Lazarus Project recovered her body and rebuilt her.”

“Collectors?” was John’s first question.

“Collectors, great mystery of the Terminus systems,” I provided. “Rarely ever emerge from their home beyond the Omega-4 Relay; when they do it’s to do business, then they disappear again. They’re the only ones who can use it; all the other ships that go there are never seen or heard from again. You said they attacked your ship?” I looked to Aussie, crossing my arms.

“It is the job of an info broker to be informed,” she acknowledged, stepping closer with a tantalizing sway of the hips. “Yes; the Collectors were behind the initial attack on the _Normandy_ SR1; and the reason we’re here now. Whole human colonies are being abducted, and we’ve learned that they’re behind it.”

“I’d heard about that,” John murmured, rubbing thoughtfully at his scruffy jaw. “The abductions. And these…Collectors are behind it?

“And for what we know, they might be working with the Reapers,” lady-cronie finished, looking smugly at us (smug seemed to be her default).

Mordin spoke up. “Collectors were behind plague- cut a deal with vorcha, affected all species. Except humans.”

The gears started turning. “And the humans are the only race the Collectors are abducting. Obviously, there’s got to be a reason they’re rounding just that one species up.” I started pacing. “What did you say about Reapers?”

“They might be allied with the Collectors,” Charlie said, then paused. “What do _you_ know about Reapers?”

I shrugged. “I’m an information broker, it’s my job to know things. There’s the legends common to every galactic race,” I ticked off, “more importantly, the things the great Commander Shepard unearthed in her pursuit of a rogue Spectre.” I faced said commander, continuing to list the pieces- “The geth are not an organic race. They _have_ no impulses, they run on code, pure logic. Therefore, it makes no sense that they would follow an organic like Saren. Then there’s the matter of that behemoth that attacked the Citadel. It could have torn up all the ships there and then some if the Fifth Fleet hadn’t showed up. And it _would_ have. That was no ordinary ship. No one alive possesses the kind of technology to build something that powerful. Either there’s some other mystery species floating around in dark space, or these things are self-aware. I got so many deserters after that; and they all told me the same things.” Finally, I tapped the fifth point. “In addition, the Council hushed it right up after the fact, and when the government shuts something up, you know it’s important. I have enough of their classified files to know there was definitely more going on than they’re letting on.” I crossed my arms. “The Reapers are dangerous. And if they’ve allied with the Collectors, for any reason, we’ve got big trouble.”

A beat of silence followed, punctured by a low whistle from Zaeed.

Charlie stepped forward. “John, Garrus,” she said, “You were there with me. You saw everything for yourself.” She turned, then, solely to her brother. “And you were there when the Collectors turned the _Normandy_ to rubble.” She gestured to the three of us, in a wide arc. “I’m building a team. You were on the Illusive Man’s dossiers. He’s sending me after the best of the best.” To Garrus, and John again. “And there’s no one I’d rather have on my side, than you. You were my team. You had my back in the beginning.”

Garrus was completely entranced, but John still looked doubtful. “I don’t know,” he confessed- “Cerberus, Charlie?”

“Are providing our resources,” she said, firmly, making lady-thug fix her with a somewhat irritated glance. “They spent more than four billion creds to bring me back. They rebuilt the _Normandy_. The Council refuse to acknowledge the Reapers- for now, Cerberus is on our side.” She uncrossed her arms, and stood at ease. “And I’ll be clear- you’ll be taking your orders from me. Not from Cerberus.”

“Just like old times,” Garrus said, pulling the turian equivalent of a smile.

I cleared my throat, half-raising my hand into the air. “Either way, we could move this discussion to your ship…?” I gestured around the plaza. “This isn’t a good place to negotiate.”

A sudden barrage of gunfire startled us into grabbing our guns. _I won’t say I told you so,_ I thought, cocking the hammer and training for targets. “ARCHANGEL!” bellowed a batarian’s voice, magnified a thousand times over. The Blue Suns’ gunship materialized first, and we dove into cover as the machine guns fired. “YOU’RE NOT GETTING AWAY FROM ME THIS TIME.” Garrus poked his head out of cover, lining up a shot to the cockpit, where Tarak sat on his rickety throne. Just another second, he started to squeeze the trigger-

Tarak was faster. Or perhaps not aiming. But a rocket fired from the gunship and caught him clear in the left mandible. With a roar of rage, John leapt from cover, taking male-thug’s grenade launcher and lining it up with the swaying gunship.

“Timed detonation!” I screamed, over the roar of the engine.

“I’m not waiting that long!” he bellowed back at me, and he fired off three explosives at the ship, catching it at the tail, the left wing, and the fuel tanks. A barrage of incendiary ammo lit it up, and I turned in time to see Charlie lowering her assault rifle, and then back to the gunship as the entire structure rattled, and shook before the hinges shuddered, groaned, and blew in a violent firestorm.

The others were already rushing to Garrus’ side, his left side turned to the floor, an alarming spread of sticky blue blood rushing out onto the tile. _Hemocyanin,_ I thought, dimly, _makes it blue, not like ours, hemoglobin-_

“Joker, get the _Normandy_ out here, ASAP!” the commander was barking into an earpiece, and Mordin and lady-cronie were turning the turian onto his back, babbling about pressure application and bindings. “He’s not gonna make it,” growled Zaeed.

Garrus was choking on his own blood, gurgling frantically- my translator was struggling to understand something, and I shut it out, leaned down by his head and listened. That choking- that was garbled turian, I realized. He was saying something, eyes fixed widely on me. He was aware, at least, I had to keep him on our side of the veil. I knelt by him, listened to the litany until I could understand- “ _Vultis dimittere me, Paxton_?” _Will you forgive me, Paxton?_

My turian probably wasn’t that great. I had to think before I could answer- “ _Si non moriamini, Garrus. Vos vivet propter me. Me tenuistis._ ” _Not if you die, Garrus. You’ve gotta live for me. Hold on for me._

Garrus went quiet at that, rattling, gurgling breaths taking over for his frantic words. But his broad chest pushed on, and he kept staring at me. His hand crept across the linoleum and I gripped onto all three fingers, squeezing as hard as was humanly possible. “ _Non moriantur in me stolidae turian._ ” _Don’t die on me, you stupid turian._

“Still holding on,” announced Mordin, sounding surprised. “Keep talking.”

I was running out of turian. I improvised. “ _Bosh’tet. Stolidae turian. Me tenuistis,_ you little shit.”

The hovering of a shuttle came in behind us, and they lifted Garrus inside, still gasping, gripping onto the edges of life with all six claws. I stayed with him, talked to him, cursed him to whatever hell turians believe in and back, and gripped his hand until they put him under.

It was after that, when lady-cronie approached and recommended I wash the blood from me- “Always a good idea, but your conflicting body compounds could be dangerous.” She directed me to the womens’ bathrooms, dropped a towel inside and backed out to give me my privacy. “Welcome aboard, Glenn,” she said, and closed the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's favorite quarian word makes its first appearance! As for the turian- the turian names I've heard (Sparatus, Garrus, Victus, Arterius, etc.), sounded very Latin to me, hence my very undoubtedly God-awful Latin for the turian language.


	5. An Extended Business Offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit, as always, to Bioware.
> 
> I'll take the time now to say that I'm a sucker for the mentor-protegee relationship, and Mordin Solus and his scientist salarian song.

Showers were a bit of a foreign concept on Omega- theoretically you know how they worked, but it’s not like you’d ever in your right mind attempt one. Dropping the soap in prison would seem like a walk in the park compared to Omega, so the station is permanently perfumed by the unwashed masses. At most I would get a sponge bath every few days; just enough to keep from getting sick. Disease might be a thing of the past in Council space, but a lot of ugly pathogens still patrolled the anarchical…anarchy-esque? Anarchistic? Anyway, the lawless streets of Omega were a breeding ground for germs.

My first shower, consequently, was on the _Normandy_ SR-2, in the women’s bathroom on the crew decks. Somewhat hesitantly, I stripped down, out of my long leather coat, the black tank and grey cargo pants, knee-high combat boots; and left them by a small shelf. A voice broke in as I was untying my hair, pulling off my marksman’s gloves and underthings. “Your garments can be cleaned in the armory, Ms. Glenn.”

I jumped, looking for the speaker; who had a very soothing female voice that was easy to trust. Which immediately made me suspicious. “Sorry?”

“I apologize, Ms. Glenn. I am not physically present in your vicinity. I am the ship’s Artificial Intelligence. The crew simply refer to me as EDI.”

“Ee-dee?” I pronounced, eyeballing the ceiling. “Ah…okay.”

“Your garments can be attended to by the ship’s armory officer, Mr. Taylor,” EDI reiterated. “The armory is located adjacent to the tech lab in the CIC. One floor up from your present level.”

I nodded, a few times. “Okay. Uh…thanks, EDI.”

“You are welcome, Ms. Glenn.”

“Hey,” I called up to the ceiling, thinking, _great, you’re finally cracked, Glenn, talking to the voice in the walls._ “Just…Glenn, is fine.”

“Certainly, Glenn. Logging you out.”

 _Cerberus, working with aliens. And an AI on board? They must be more desperate than I thought_ , I mused, stepping up buck naked to the shower head. There weren’t any buttons in sight. “Uh…water on?” I tried, on a hunch.

Instantly the water switched on, spraying me in the face. I stepped back, spluttering, then migrated tentatively under the stream again. It was warm, perfectly so, and like nothing I’d ever had before. Imagine that; showers, a luxury not afforded until the age of twenty-six.

The water ran off murky blue, dirt mingling with Garrus’ blood and washing down the drain. I scrubbed until I felt raw, a faint tinge of pink showing all over. The tattoos emerged even starker than I think I'd ever seen them; standing out inky-black on suddenly pale skin. I hadn't even known I was so milky, but then, it had been a while since I had been so clean, and the last time I _had_ been, there had been a sun to darken me. My hair, though, remained as dark as ever, like a drell's eyes. One of my better features, I thought, since I had always thought my breasts were a bit small and my chin was a bit obtrusive.

Looking in the mirror had me wishing for my kit, eyeliner mostly. I could never stand the sight of myself without eyeliner, it just looked wrong. And now I was going to meet new people without it.

Oh well. We all must endure small hardships, at some point in our lives. And I could always get more eyeliner (much as it would bother me until then, staring at blues that looked much smaller than I would really like them to.)

I put my hair up once it had dried, donned a borrowed tank and pair of running shorts, padding barefoot up to the armory, by EDI’s instructions, to deposit my clothes. “Where is everyone?” I wondered aloud, and almost jumped out of my skin when EDI answered: “Mr. Taylor, as well as Commander and Mr. Shepard, are in the briefing room. Through the door to your right. It is clearly marked in the adjoining hallway.”

“Right,” I parroted, feeling that I needed something else to say. “Ah…thank you.”

“Certainly, Glenn.”

I found the briefing room as EDI directed, occupied by a harassed-looking Charlie and tired, dirty John. Male-thug from before- Mr. Taylor, I knew now- was standing by the handrail, arms crossed in a familiar-looking position. “Glenn,” he said, standing at attention (he looked like he did that a lot, so I didn’t make much of it), “Jacob Taylor. Good to meet you, officially.” He shook my hand. “We need to brief you.”

“What’s the status on Garrus?” I asked instead, ignoring him.

Charlie and John raised their heads from their quiet conference to listen in on the answer.

Taylor shrugged. “He’s holding on. Whatever you said to him…Dr. Chakwas and Professor Solus are doing their best. Last I checked, Miranda said it looked tentatively promising.” He shifted to an at ease. “As for the brief…”

“Let’s not and say we did,” I cut him off. “Go check again.”

Jacob paused. “We’ll need-”

“Go on, Jacob,” said Charlie, sounding exhausted, rising slowly from her seat by the rail. “I’ll talk to her. John?”

“I’ll go down and make the rounds,” John stood a bit quicker, taking the hint. “Familiarize myself with the place.” The two men walked out the door and left us alone. I drummed my fingers on the rail as the door closed behind them. “I tried to get a look in on my way up here. The windows were tinted out.” I shook my head, marginally.

Charlie was eyeing me, now, with a certain curiosity. “I didn’t know…was it turian, you were speaking?”

“Had to improvise, threw in a bit of quarian at the end-” I gestured. “Yeah, turian, quarian; I learned a good bit of foreign language. Had some training outside of Omega. I’m no linguistics expert, but I can get by if my translator ever glitches, or something. Guess I can’t be good at everything.” I shrugged.

Charlie leaned on the handrail, across from me. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail; a bit of a departure from the tight bun I’d always seen in the vids. Guess this technically wasn’t a military vessel, there weren’t any hair regs dictating “off the neck or off with its head”. She had the same blue eyes as John, I noticed, and the same outrageous cheekbones. She had taken off the N7 armor, I’d seen it in the armory on a shelf awaiting its servicing, and donned a dress set that looked like it was meant for the commanding officer. She fixed me with her piercing gaze, across the rail. “Whatever you did…I want to thank you. It’s tentative, like they said, but I’m fairly comfortable saying you saved his life.”

“This is gonna be awkward if he doesn’t pull through.”

“He will,” said Charlie, mouth ticking up at the corner. “Damn stubborn turian, that one. If he were going to die, I would know. I would feel it.”

I straightened up a little, looking resolutely at the handrail. “He…was looking for validation. He mistook me for someone, someone John mentioned- Paxton?”

Charlie nodded. “Our sister. We’re triplets, if you hadn’t guessed; Paxton is the only one you haven’t met. Slight build, looks a lot like me, darker hair. She and Garrus were…close.” She lapsed into a spacey flashback for a moment before snapping out of the trance and returning her focus to me. “He was looking for validation, he thought you were Paxton?”

“The missile took him in the face; can’t say much for how good his eyesight was right about then.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what told me to, but…I didn’t give it to him. I told him I’d never forgive him if he died on me there. I guess it worked.”

Charlie thought that over, nodded a few times, slowly. Then, she moved suddenly, standing that little bit straighter, a brief glimmer of humanity’s finest showing through. “Well…I should introduce myself. Properly. Commander-” she started, then reconsidered. “Charlie Shepard,” she told me, holding out her hand for me to shake. It, like her face, was crisscrossed with scars like fault lines, where skin didn’t quite graft together. “Welcome aboard the _Normandy_.”

“She’s a nice little frigate,” I admitted, shaking her hand. “The lateral drift’s gotta be nice. Though, I looked around down in engineering and I saw you might get occasional heat venting from the number sixteen lithium heat sink. And I thought I saw a bit of a pressure loss in the number four hydrogen tank…?” I trailed off, shaking my head and pinching at the bridge of my nose. “…sorry.”

There was a sudden sigh over the intercoms. “Baby, I love it when you talk dirty.” I eyeballed the ceiling, delivered my best stinkeye to the nearest camera. “You know, where I come from, the creepers would do you the grace of showing up to watch you.”

“Yeah, except I get a free pass for being a cripple. Commander; if these are the kinds of people the Illusive Man is sending you after; I can’t wait to pick up the next one.”

Commander Charlie Shepard sighed, smiling resignedly at the ceiling. “Helm the ship, Joker.”

“Yes, ma’am. Send up your sexy new friend when you’re done briefing her. Or, you know, thonging her. I’m not picky.”

Commander Charlie Shepard sighed lightly, lips pressing thinly together in an effort not to smile again. _Don’t encourage him_ , her pose clearly stated. “Is he always…?” she nodded at me. “That would be our helmsman.”

“I gathered.” I propped a hip up on the table. “So. You told me your Illusive Man sent you out to Omega to find a few people- me included. And you told me you’re building a team for which purpose you have yet to disclose. It’s not like I’ve never been off-planet before.” I paused. “Off-station. Shoot, Charles.”

Commander Charlie Shepard leaned on the table, fixing me with the blue eyes I already knew. “I’m going through the Omega-4 Relay,” she said. “I’m going to hit the Collectors where they live. I’m going to find out why they’re abducting human colonies- and I’m going to stop them, even if it kills me. Again.”

The silence hung heavy in the air. “So it’s a suicide mission?” I deadpanned.

Commander Charlie Shepard sighed, nodded, dropping her eyes to the table. “The chances of survival are…slim.”

I cocked my eyebrow at her. “Certainty of death? Small chance of success?” I shrugged, marginally, pulling a sideways smirk. “What are we waiting for?”

Charlie paused before she hesitantly smiled back, and shook my hand again. “Well, I’ll say again- truly, this time- welcome aboard.”

“Glad to be.” I looked around. “Any place for me to stay? Any place…specifically away from other people?”

Charlie considered. “We have a bit of space in the surveillance quarters. Enough room to put up a cot and a bit of space for personal belongings. I can have your data and files pulled to the terminal there.”

“That’ll do fine,” I said, with a nod. “Thanks. I’m just…”

“Private?”

“Not a…people. Person. Hell, I don’t know, I was always better with varren.”

Charlie was still deciding if I was joking or not when Jacob reemerged, John in tow. “Commander,” he said, saluting, “I have a report on Garrus’ progress.”

Charlie turned to him, standing a little straighter. “Give me the word, Jacob.”

“Well…” he scanned his feet. “They’ve done all they can…with the standard bio-restorative procedures, and some cybernetics…we don’t know if or when he’ll be fit for active duty-” he was cut off by the opening of the door, and the arrival of Garrus. The cowl of his armor was punched clean through on the side where he’d been hit; the mandible ragged and a bandage covering that entire side of his head. But he was alive, and on his feet.

“-tough son of a bitch,” Jacob finished, as he strolled inside. “Didn’t think he’d be up yet.”

“You don’t know our Garrus,” John replied, grinning.

“How bad is it?” Garrus questioned, looking to the two Shepards. “They wouldn’t give me a mirror.”

Charlie leaned on the handrail, cocking an eyebrow and a dry smile. “Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap on some face paint and no one will ever notice.”

Garrus started to chuckle, then stopped with an abrupt noise like a cough. “ _Ow_ , damn it, don’t make me laugh. My face is barely holding together as it is.” He strode a little farther inside, brushing slightly past me. “I _have_ heard some women find scars attractive. Granted, most of those women are krogan…”

Charlie shook her head. “Good to have you back. That is, assuming you’re on…”

“For the long run, Shepard,” he agreed. “You know I’m with you.”

“Good,” she said, smiling. “There’s no one I’d rather have walking into hell with me.”

“You realize this plan has _me_ walking into hell too?” his undamaged mandible flapped, exposing a toothy, fangy grin. “Just like old times.”

Quietly, (as was my specialty), I slipped out of the briefing room, leaving the old friends to their banter. I’d meant to turn back into the armory, but I realized when the door opened that I’d mistakenly wandered to the tech lab. Mordin Solus was washing his hands at a sink on the far end, and he looked to find me standing paralyzed in the doorway.

“Sorry,” I said, “Wrong room. Still finding my way around, you know?”

“Glenn,” he said, apparently uncaring about my lack of direction. “Information broker, yes?”

“Hacker, cyberwarfare, what have you.” I shrugged. “I’m a bit of a jack of all trades; master of none.”

Mordin inspected me. I got the feeling he wanted to dissect me. “Glenn has also demonstrated an extensive knowledge of the operating of a ship,” EDI came in overhead.

“Yeah, and it’s hot,” chimed in Joker, the helmsman.

“Helm the ship, Joker,” I called to the ceiling, hoping it was a sentiment exhibited frequently enough to get the point across. I heard nothing from him after that.

“Also exhibited interesting skills, when on Omega. Deductive logic and reasoning, anticipated. Intuition in dealing with Garrus- unexpected. Any prior training in medical field?”

“Ahh…no,” I said, slowly, moving into the lab and leaning on the midcounter. “Unless a spiritual course by hanar counts; but that was more meditation for combat purposes than anything else.”

“As I assumed. Then, is, as expected, but also remarkably, pure talent.”

“Talent?” I repeated, “What’s ‘talent’?”

“Talent in handling patients,” Mordin repeated, sounding impatient, like I was slow on the uptake. “Xenobiology. Chops, as humans say. Know anything about alien physiology, psychology?”

“Quarians and turians are the only two dextro races, which means they can’t eat food meant for levo species or mix body fluids with them, it causes a severe allergic reaction,” I fired off. “Turian blood is blue because it contains hemocyanin rather than hemoglobin. Asari cellular regeneration is more robust, which does not cause them to heal faster, but does result in their thousand-year lifespan. The salarian metabolism runs at about four times that of a human’s. The volus always need their suits because they hail from an ammonia-based atmosphere. Elcor are from a high-gravity environment, resulting in a very deliberate movement cycle, because a fall could mean death back home. Krogan and vorcha are the only species known to ‘regenerate’; because they possess secondary, and, when applicable, tertiary organs. They’re extremely hard to kill, and are easier brought down by utilizing fire or explosives.” Mordin held up a hand to stop me. He seemed impressed.

“Assuming knowledge of culture is as extensive?”

“It’d take me hours to tell you all I know about the Migrant Fleet. You know, if you’re up for that. Look, I just- I read up on this, on my down time, I hear things in my line of work and I get curious.” I crossed my arms, frowning. “Just a hobby, I guess. Everyone needs one.”

Mordin regarded me, frowning. “Analyzing Collector swarm samples currently; preparing cultures to test. Tedious job- usually know outcome, just checking work.” He drummed his fingers on the surface. “Will be waiting on them in a few hours. Come by then? Will listen to all you have to know.”

One could forgive me for being slightly dumbfounded; I spent a good few minutes trying to think of when anyone had ever been interested in listening to me blather for hours on end about xenobiology and alien culture. “Sure,” I remembered to say, perhaps a beat too late to be considered a polite, conversational pause. “Right. I’ll see you then, Professor Solus.”

“Mordin.”

I stopped in my retreat to the CIC, turning, holding his eyes. “Okay,” I said, “Mordin.”

“Will be here if you need me. Until later, Glenn,” he said, turning to his work. I stayed at the door, watching him for another moment, before turning around and heading out onto the deck.


	6. An Acquainting with Fellows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit, always, to Bioware. A bit of a filler chapter to introduce Glenn to a few others in the team: her first mission is coming up, though, and pretty soon the story's about to pick up. I love comments! Thank you to all of those so far who have been reading and reviewing this story, and enjoy the following chapter.

The _Normandy_ SR-2, though a ship never lacking for luxuries, was truly rich in its wide array of weirdoes. We had vengeful vigilantes, overprotective brothers with fearsome tempers, technically undead best and brightest of humanity, scientists with an aversion to personal pronouns, a Cerberus cheerleader (lady-cronie, Miranda Lawson, who only needed three minutes to convince me not to bother with her.) There was a Scottish engineer down amid the pipelines and cargo hold, who insisted he did not, in fact, ever say: “Ahm losin’ ‘er, Cap’n, shay’s goon dayoon an’ ahm not sure ah kin ‘old ‘er!” I told Ken Donnelly I’d believe it when I _didn’t_ hear it, and proceeded to question him about the drive core and their stealth systems until a trying-desperately-not-to-look-jealous Gabby Daniels said they had work to do and they should probably get to it. Obligingly, I left them, suppressing the urge to pop back out of the elevator and call, “Hey! You two should kiss!” All in good time, Glenn.

Zaeed had taken up residence in the starboard side cargo, and he’d talk willingly about his conquests and escapades when I showed up to listen. The man could tell a damn good story, at the end of the day, holding eloquent suspense, talking animatedly in subsidiary growl, hands waving about in the air, describing in graphic detail his singlehanded defeat of an asari commando unit. He didn’t hide much, Zaeed, practically wore his heart on his sleeve. Talking to him was easy; soon enough I could share some of my own stories.

“Ah,” he muttered, lounging on a chair tipped back on its back legs, feet propped up on the tabletop. “To be young again.”

I leaned over the table to reach his glass, refilling it with the brandy I had picked up at Afterlife before giving Omega the double middle finger and screwing off to the suicide squad. I hiccupped once, refilled my glass after his, and swirled it around (straight, no ice) before tossing it back. “What’d you do if you were young again?”

He made a growling noise, throwing his own drink back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’d round up your Jen Bond and blow some godam thing up for a backdrop to kiss her.” He muttered something unintelligible, rolling his shoulders and sighing when something in his neck popped. “Always wanted to do that. Blow up Vido’s secret godam hidey-hole, maybe.” He rubbed lazily at the back of his neck.

I leaned back in my seat, giving him a searching look (I assumed it was searching; but you get drunk enough and your fine muscle control gets a little sketchy.) “When’d you and Jen meet?”

“Ah, we go way back. Met her when I was still running the Suns. I was the one that called her Tomcat, you know. I said stubborn hellcat first, actually, but what have you.” He shrugged.

“Hellcats?” I snorted. “Really.”

“Really. Why?”

“Did she tell you about the gang she ran in the Gamma District for however many years. The Hellcats, we were called.”

He frowned at me, then cracked a crooked grin. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You, a merc.”

“Once.” I shrugged, taking another swig of my Serrice. “Sprung for a change in occupation- wanna see my tattoo?”

“Would you have to undress?” he questioned.

I fixed him with a sheepish grin. “The pants’d have to come off.”

He waved at me. “Don’t bother. Don’t need to be feeling like more of a dirty old man than I already am.” He sighed. “So, Tomcat. Tried to recruit her, but she’d have none of it. Shame. Would’ve looked damn good in a Suns uniform.” He shook his head, scrubbing at his face. “Kept running into her over the years; always a good day when I got to fight with her.” He sighed. “Godam impressive woman. Always wondered if she’d ever consider retirement with me,” he scratched his nose. “Kids, maybe. She did all right with you.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, leering drunkenly. “You’re a good kid.”

“Good kid.”

“Yeah.”

It was not long after that Charlie and her ground team- the ice queen and the salute-happy armory officer- returned from the latest mission; an extraction of intergalactic psychopath criminal, Subject Zero, from the Suns prison ship Purgatory. Charlie and a disgruntled Miranda were leading the new arrival down to the lower levels. The first thing I noticed was, despite her lack of hair, she was really hot. Second were the tats. She was covered in them, head to toe, and eclectic mix of things that were either very symbolic or just for the hell of it. Also, the lack of top- I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone wear a belt around their nipples. She made the baggy pants work, though, and I might have made a pass at her if I wasn’t so sure she could flay me alive with her mind.

No one could fault my excellent sense of self-preservation, after all.

“Is this suitable?” Charlie asked her, gesturing around at the bowels of the engineering deck.

Subject Zero eyeballed the place, pulled a few crates and biotically rearranged them, pushing the cot into a corner and plopping down on it. “Good. Now as long as everybody leaves me the hell alone, I’ll be great.” Miranda pulled her irritated face again, and went back up the stairs, brushing past me on her way out. Charlie nodded at her, turned around, and paused when she saw me.

“Glenn,” she said, “We’re heading out to Korlus first thing tomorrow. You’re on the ground team. We’re going after a krogan warlord named Okeer.” She crossed her arms. “Mordin recommended you. He said you have an extensive knowledge of krogan physiology and culture.”

I was a little taken aback by that- Mordin and I’s talks had become a fairly regular occurrence; him working on a countermeasure for the seeker swarms and me sitting in; sharing what we knew with each other and trading tips. The last time he’d even had me mixing the base of his existing formula to free him up to tweak the uncertain bits. “Almost have something,” he kept repeating, darting about the lab, only pausing long enough to eye my beaker and say, “Carbon-14? No, no, no, what was I thinking? Carbon is base for organics. Try nitrogen. Will have to lower temperature to achieve liquid state- use freezer over there! Yes, yes, utilize freezing effect; stimulate neurochemical receptors- placebo will negate paralyzing compounds! Nitroglycerin-6, Glenn, observe effects of blood samples and seeker venom. Chop chop! Don’t have century and a half, you know.”

Sure, we talked a lot- I _learned_ a lot from him, never a dull moment with Mordin Solus- but if Charlie was looking for an expert, wouldn’t she just bring him along?

If anything, she was the commander, so I nodded a few times. “Okay. I’ll be ready and able on your count.”

“Good.” Charlie brushed past me too, leaving me alone with Subject Zero.

She eyed me with a half-sneer on her pouty lips. “Glenn? When’s that supposed to suit you, age eighty?”

“Well, wasn’t a worry on Omega. You’re damned lucky if you get to be forty. My given name’s worse.” I propped my hip on the doorframe. “What about you, how’d you end up with a mug like Subject Zero?”

She scowled at me. “It’s Jack to you.”

“‘Kay, Jack. _Do not forget me, 24601_ ,” I rattled off, in my best tenor. “Famous prison number, that one, wonder if it was coincidence they gave it to you?” I pulled up her files on my omni-tool, tossing her mugshot over to her.

She stood with a snarl, crackling all over with a glowing biotic field. “Why did you snoop around in my stuff?”

I put my hands up. “Information broker. I kind of do it with everyone.”

“Well, you stay clear of me,” she warned, “or I’ll tear you apart.”

I _knew_ it would come to the flaying. I swear one day my epitaph will read _Dear Jennifer Bond: Sometimes the paranoid people are right. P.S., I stole your pistol._ You know. If I get an epitaph.

“Okay, point taken,” I said, regarding her a moment. “Here, I’ll make a peace offering.” I pulled up my omni-tool again, began decrypting the Cerberus protocols, and played around as best I could with the firewalls. “Look, whatever files EDI will let you see are probably all the things you’ve seen before. Cerberus has got two files for everyone; the public ones that keep face, and the real records.” I tossed her a few files. “There, I just got you the good stuff. What d’you say, you read up on those and…refrain, from the tearing?”

Jack spread the files out, eyeing one of them and smirking. Her disinterested impasse was back when she looked to me. “Fine. Now leave me alone, before I change my mind.”

“Sure thing,” I said, “Square deal, fly safe, don’t let the varren bite. All that good stuff.” I started up the stairs.

“Glenn.”

“Yeah?” I turned around, anticipating a variation on _shut up._

She leered at me. “Nice ink.”

I awkwardly put up the gun hands. “Touché.”

“Get outta here.”

“Right, getting. Going.”

Garrus took up residence in the main battery, where he spent the time calibrating the _Normandy_ ’s guns. Once, I took my lunch (a cup of noodles) down the hall from the mess and simply sat up on one of the crates, cross-legged and listening to his two-toned chatter about an upgrade he was implementing to the artillery, something about cannons shooting plasmidic metal at near-relativistic speeds. He still looked a mess on account of the torpedo to the head, and he never took the damn visor off, but John assured me he was back to normal. If the turian remembered me cursing him off the brink of death; he didn’t mention it- perfectly all right with me. The experience had been fairly intense, and I’d been perfectly fine to talk it over with Mordin and let well enough alone. Hell, Garrus was a great guy on his own merits- funny, charming, crack shot with his trusty rifle. Handsome, in his own carapace, insectoid-mandibley sort of way. Maybe I would have made a pass at _him_ ; if it hadn’t been for that mystery Shepard-v3 I kept hearing about. That, and the fact that he, well, ejaculates death. Messy business, that dextro-levo complication.

Jacob Taylor was all business; ex-Alliance, I figured. He stood at ease or at attention (with an occasional parade rest, for, you know, variety), saluted anyone above him, and wasn’t much one for familiarizing. I tried to strike up a conversation with him when I picked up my clothes that evening, and he just asked me if my quarters were suitable, handed me my garments when I said yes, and turned back to his work, bidding me a good night.

Oh, well. Some people were just determined to be about as palatable as cardboard.

Sleeping in the surveillance room wasn’t too far a cry from the old place on Omega, at any rate- flickering monitors all around, security feeds from the surrounding area, watching people move in slow motion, watching them as they were when they thought they were alone. Textbook insomniac I was; it took me hours for my miles-a-minute brain to slow down enough to go to sleep- so I watched the camera until darkness came.

John slept fitfully in the crew quarters. He tossed, turned, and at last sat up with a start; almost clocking his head on Ken Donnelly’s overhanging bunk. He swung his legs out over the edge of the bed, bowing his head and scrubbing wearily at his face. After sitting like that, motionless for a long while, he reached down into his footlocker and pulled out a picture frame, the subject obscured to me at my vantage point. He traced a familiar line in the picture, almost smiling, scars pulling at his lips. I closed my eyes, and oblivion came.


	7. To Sit in Solemn Silence by a Dull, Dark Dock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit, as always, to Bioware. A bit more John in this chapter, because he...kind of disappeared in the last one. :/ Enjoy!

_-in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock._ I woke suddenly, with the words at the front of my brain, lips silently forming the verses. I sat slowly, hugging my knees, still yet covered by the bedspread, and rested my light, dizzy brow on them. _Just wait here, Munchkin, we’ll be back, I promise._

My alarm rang twenty-three minutes later to inform me it was time to arise.

I dressed, migrated down the elevator to the crew decks, shuffling into the mess to find my breakfast. After rummaging in the cupboards I found an MRE labeled ‘oatmeal’, and a coffee machine.

The sound of someone entering made me turn, yawning. My company was a small guy, at least two or three inches shorter than I was; probably five foot seven at my best guess. He had on the typical Cerberus regs (which looked like they’d been slept in), and was rubbing drowsily at a very ordinary brown crew cut and beard. Right, the creeper pilot. Only thing missing was the ever-present hat. Aaaaand, there it was.

“We’ve got the good stuff,” he told me, shuffle-limping inside. “Real beans; not the freeze-dried insta-crap on Omega.”

“You know, when the skipper told me you were disabled, I thought that was her roundabout, socially acceptable way of telling me that you’d been born with a chair attached to your ass.” The timer beeped, and I poured myself a mug and moved aside to let him at it.

“I might as well have been.” I dumped two sugar cubes into the mug and stirred them in, lifting it to drink. “Calories,” I explained, when he gave me an odd look. “Being a biotic is like being a teenager. Constantly hungry, horny, and moody. Also, powers of molecular fuckery.” I picked up another cube and tossed it in my mouth, picking out the banana from my breakfast, setting to peeling it.

Joker saluted lazily when Charlie and Garrus entered, strapping their gauntlets on. “You’re sure you’re fit to go out, Garrus?” she was asking, with a frown.

“Ship-shape, Shepard,” he said, cocking his rifle and engaging safety before laying it carefully down across the table. “Can’t let a little tank missile get me down. It’d be damned irresponsible.” He looked into the shelves and dug out a dextro MRE, pulling the rip cord and reaching inside for some sort of off-white crunchy fruit.

Charlie turned to me. “Are you ready to go, Glenn?”

“Raring,” I replied, “I need some bloody action.” I threw back the rest of the coffee and put the mug down in the sink. “Fill us in, Charles. What’s the dossier on Okeer?” I took a bite out of the banana and shot a condescending look at Joker when I noticed him fixated on my mouth and the fruit.

“Could you bring up the files, EDI?” Charlie asked. I caught Joker rolling jade green eyes as the AI brought up the holo-files. “Of course, Shepard. Okeer is a krogan doctor running tank breeding experiments. It would appear he is attempting to create a super soldier. He has had dealings with the Collectors in the past; and was banished from Tuchanka as a result of his work. Recent planetside surveillance suggests a Blue Suns presence in the area.”

“The Suns,” I muttered, “Lovely.”

“If they figure out we’re the ones that dropped Tarak…” Garrus trailed off.

“They won’t,” I finished, assuredly. “They’ll have a bullet between their eyes before they even have time to consider it. Hell, it’s the Suns, they might just throw us a fuckin’ parade.”

“Just be on your guard down there,” Charlie said, firmly. “We’ll get Okeer and we’ll get on out. Joker?”

“The shuttle’s ready,” he replied, leaning on the counter and drinking from his mug.

“Great. I’ll fly,” I said, standing up and cocking my pistol. The files disappeared, and Garrus and Charlie finished suiting up, leading the way out to the elevator.

“You ever considered doing a calendar?” Joker asked me, as I finished readying to disembark. “Like, a Miss Sexy Shuttle Pilot calendar? ‘Cause I’d so get behind that. You could probably get the Alliance to sponsor you, too. Big glossy print of you at the helm, Systems Alliance logo right across the rump? I can see it now.”

“You know, I’d have punched you by now if you were anyone else.”

“That supposed to mean something?”

“It’s supposed to mean that I have at least some semblance of a moral compass.” I picked up my assault rifle, slinging it up and over my back. “I didn’t completely lose my soul on that goddamned station.”

A brief silence on his end. “I didn’t think you’d lost your soul,” he finished, lamely. “Just…you could cut a bit loose. You’re kind of…all snarky comments and deep metaphors. Lighten up, you know? Air out the ugly stuff.”

“I grew up in the jungle, flyboy,” I said, tugging on my first glove. “No airing out there: just chaos.” I glared at him. “And chaos is a ladder. Everyone, wasting their lives in a mad scramble for power.” I stopped, shook my head. “It isn’t just Omega, either; it’s the whole damn galaxy. We’ve got one big goddamn hero that sees what’s going on; and everyone else arguing about politics until the sun comes up. Or, rather, doomsday dawns, and they’re all gonna be crying, ‘where did this come from? Why weren’t we warned?’” I shook my head, tugging on the second glove. “Air _that_ out if you can.”

Joker tapped lightly on the counter, made somewhat off-balance. “Wow,” he said, finally.

“It’s the fate of the sapient cycle, there’s no time for comedians,” I said at last, heading down away to the lift.

“So you’re a dramatist?”

I continued on my way, smiling. “Theatricality’s half the battle,” I murmured, joining the squad in the elevator and easing down to the shuttle bay.

“Are there any other dossiers?” Garrus questioned as we made our descent.

“No,” Charlie replied. “This is the last one- for now. I got a message from Anderson. He wants me to meet him on the Citadel.”

“Anderson?” I repeated.

“He commanded the _Normandy_ , before Shepard did,” Garrus shared. “He’s humanity’s councilor now. Even my people admire him for his accomplishments, and his attitude. He’s a good man.”

“And a very old friend of mine and my siblings’,” Charlie punctuated.

The elevator opened, and we walked out into the shuttle bay, boarding the Cerberus lurid-orange, black, and white Kodiak, and puttering out the ramp towards the desolate surface of Korlus. I took the controls easily, having hijacked one of these for Tomcat once, and set a course for the marked coordinates on the map. Once or twice I looked back to Charlie and Garrus, sitting silent, preparing themselves. Their postures, iterated towards one another, spoke of a long and colored experience running missions together. Garrus’ talons stroked lightly over the side of his rifle, his eyes distant and his mind far afield. His mouth was moving so slightly, reciting names in silence over and over: _Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Grundan Krul, Melanis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver, Paxton._ That Paxton again. We had two Shepards aboard already; a part of me wondered if fate would lead us to the third. Then, maybe, there would be a chance for him to talk out his issues.

Charlie cut an imposing figure in her armor, even at rest now. She too was looking somewhere far away, hands folded in front of her. She dipped her head, closed her eyes, also began mouthing names; though her list went on and on: _Jamin Bakari, Germeen Barrett, Addison Chase, Silas Crosby, Rosamund Draven, Talitha Draven, Alexei Dubyansky, Hector Emerson, Robert Felawa, Harvey J. Gladstone, Caroline Grenado, Marcus Grieco, Richard L. Jenkins, Orden Laflamme, Helen M. Lowe, Monica Negulesco, Abishek Pakti, Charles Pressly, Mandira Rahman, Raymond Tanaka, Carlton Tucks, Amina Waaberi, Ashley Williams._ I wondered; were these the names of their lost? Save Paxton, perhaps; still alive and well on Illium. When Charlie raised her head again she looked tired; and I supposed twenty-two deaths could do that to someone. “We’re approaching the drop zone,” I said, making them both look up. “I’m getting Suns radio chatter. EDI must have been right about that much.”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Charlie determined, rising as I lowered the shuttle to a stop. “Are you ready?”

“Right behind you,” Garrus replied, getting to his feet and cocking his rifle.

We left our shuttle and leapt into the war zone.

“One more thing,” Charlie said, as we ducked behind cover. “Dossiers didn’t say whether Okeer was on the planet by choice. Expect hostility.”

A voice cut in over a loudspeaker: “ _Recruitment is just the beginning! You must prove yourself worthy of this army!_ ”

Garrus looked up, muttering, “Loudspeakers. Someone likes the sound of their voice.”

Charlie loaded up her rifle. “Let’s move,” she murmured.

As we ran through the over-glorified trash heap, the loudspeakers continued to go, spouting nonsense about perfection and earning a place in an army of super soldiers. Our first company was a lone Blue Suns trooper, cursing and struggling to his feet. “Shit…shit! Won’t stop bleeding!”

“Doesn’t look all that bad to me,” Garrus muttered, out of earshot.

“He doesn’t need to know that,” I said back, “Let me handle this.” I strode ahead. “Hey! Guy!” he staggered in surprise, pointing his pistol at me. I knocked it aside with a good throw. “All right, buddy, ease up there. What are the Suns doing here?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he spat, edging away from me. “Just leave me alone!”

“I’ve got a nice application of medi-gel ready to go,” I said, waving my omni-tool at him, “But if you want me to keep walking, I will…”

“Shit,” he hissed again, leaning on the structure behind him. “Fine.” He glared at me, through narrowed eyes. “Jedore’s here because of that crazy old krogan. He’s supposed to be building her an army; but they come out funny. They’re crazy, they won’t listen and they kill everything that moves, so we use them for live ammo practice.” He bit off another curse. “I don’t get paid enough to goddamn bleed out.”

I crossed my arms when his radio buzzed and started going. “Squad Four, do you read? We’re sending Squad Two your way for reinforcements. Copy with coordinates, over.”

“Send them somewhere else,” I told him. The mercenary hit me with a side-eye. “You tell them where we are, and you won’t have to worry about bleeding out.” I pulled the discarded pistol back to me, gripping it tightly as the corona faded.

The mercenary looked uncertainly to his mic. He pressed his earpiece. “Squad Four? We’re…just down the runway by the labs. Send your teams west. Over.”

I lowered the pistol. “See? Was that so hard?” Garrus and Charlie caught up to me, and I turned fluidly to them. “We’ve got a clear path to the labs, I think. Clearer than we might have had a moment ago. I’m still reading heat signatures on the upper runways; so we might be taking some fire from above on the approach-”

“Screw this,” the mercenary said suddenly, behind me, “Squad Two? We have hostiles, off-planet hostiles at-”

Without turning, I shot him. “I did warn you,” I said, turning back to watch the body crumple. I popped open the pistol to access the thermal clips, dropping them into a pocket before tossing it aside. Charlie was watching the body with some semblance of unease, though Garrus looked untroubled. “That probably wasn’t necessary.”

“Key word being probably. Look, Charles, when I make threats, you damn well better believe I follow up on them,” I told her, crossing my arms and facing her squarely down, ignoring her height advantage. “Otherwise, I’m just a big talker.”

“There’s always a better way.”

“Tell that to me when we’re surrounded by Suns and gunned down four hundred feet from our shuttle.” I gestured to the corpse. “I took down one of their guys so we wouldn’t have to dispose of twenty. I’d say I had the right of it.” I started to walk, but the snap of biotics turned me back around and had me facing the commander at attention.

“We do _not_ murder unarmed prisoners,” she said, in the voice of pure authority, facing me down- imposing, but not threatening. “We do not threaten people. We do not run missions with a complete disregard for my orders. I’m in charge here.”

“Fine, you wanna lead?” I snarled, suddenly angry, throwing off her paralyzing field and jabbing a finger in close to her nose. “Then lead. You sure as hell can’t save the galaxy and be a fuckin’ paragon while you’re at it, but you can goddamn try. As for me, I’m going back to the ship. And I’ll get off at the next spaceport. You can kill yourself playing hero, but I’m not gonna be a part of it.” I expected her to shout after me, order me back, but there was only silence behind as I left.

I piloted the Kodiak back to the Normandy, stormed out of it still in a rage, fuming as I passed by Jack, heading the same way I’d came. Likely Charlie had radioed in for support. Whatever. There were enough biotics and enough tech specialists in her little suicide squad, what the hell did she need me for? I got in the elevator, rode up to my floor, brushed by John as I strode brusquely past, and locked the doors to the surveillance rooms when I got in. I stood there, glaring at a terminal, and flung it across the room with a sudden yell. Amid the crackling of torn cables and dissipating dark energy came the sound of the door opening (EDI, you traitor), and John walked in.

“Hey,” he said, cautiously, as the doors closed behind him. “What’s going on? Charlie just radioed in, said you were coming back and she was pulling Jack in.”

If looks could kill, I would have dropped John Shepard on the decks of the _Normandy._ “No offense, but your sister’s a goody two-shoes.” I kicked the edge of my bed, and flopped down over the coverlet, scowling at the ceiling. “So I shot this one merc that was radioing in to give away our positions, and all she can do is spout some BS to me about how there’s ‘a better way’ and ‘we don’t murder unarmed prisoners’ and ‘we don’t threaten people’. Fuckin’ feedback loop. If you’re not threatening them, you’re shooting them! And, apparently, I’m not allowed to shoot them.” I sat up with a heavy sigh, rubbing at my eyes, suddenly sore. “Sorry, I’m venting. But I couldn’t even get through two minutes of a mission with her. I’m obviously not cut out for this. I gave her my office key; I’ll be getting off at the next spaceport we pull into.”

John sighed, sitting next to me. “She is a little difficult. Naïve, I’d say. Got a bit of a white knight complex. You know her history, right? Elysium, the Blitz. If it’s any consolation; I could never run missions with her either. Except when the fate of the galaxy is at stake. We can usually agree on those types of things.” He folded his hands. “Back when we were serving together on the SR-1, we’d mix up who led the missions: sometimes she would go, sometimes it would be me, other days it would be Pax. We’d take two or three of the squad with us; and we all had different names. Hers was Omaha, mine was Bravo, Pax’s was Delta. No matter who went out with us on a given day, that was always our team.” He sat back. “I agree. Sometimes she doesn’t want to do the things you’d think were necessary to get the job done. I guess…I guess that’s why she’s humanity’s hero in the end. Never does things the easy way; somehow manages to resolve everything without a whole lot of blood. Goodness is just…in her nature.” He shrugged. “So she’s humanity’s poster girl. And you and me, well, we shoot first and we ask questions later. That’s how we get tagged with names like ruthless…Butcher of Torfan.” He looked at his hands, which were wringing loosely.

A long silence. I shook my head, slowly. “She said we don’t shoot unarmed prisoners. He was a Blue Suns guy; probably just waiting for us to get far enough away to toss his flashbang.”

John chuckled, shaking his head. “You honestly think she’s seen a mercenary a day in her life? I’d stake my life on the hunch she’s never been to the Terminus before.”

“Yeah.” I smiled, reluctantly. “Guess this is our playing field.”

John looked sideways to me. “She and you may not see eye to eye. I don’t; I’m her brother, for God’s sakes. Is she some sort of storybook hero? Yeah. Maybe it doesn’t work for you; maybe your methods are vastly different…but the objective is there. The motives. You’ll agree when it counts.” He quirked a sideways smile. “You were a damn good help, tracking Garrus down. I’d hate to see you go on this note.”

I sighed. “Yeah, well…I don’t know. Undermining authority, looking out for myself…that’s been my life. Twenty-one years…it just comes natural.” I stared at my lap. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

John looked at me for a long time. Finally, he rose. “Let me talk to her. I’ll see if I can’t work this out. Don’t pack up just yet.” He headed for the door.

“John?” I called, just before he opened up the doors. He turned back, “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” I said, simply.

“For what?”

“For not giving up. Calling me the psycho bitch and letting me screw off.”

The doors opened. He shook his head at me, smiling bitterly. “I couldn’t. I know a thing or two, about…being the psycho bitch.” Without another word, he strolled away down the decks, leaving me alone to do what I did best (No, not masturbating. No, not molecular telepathic fuckery. No, not the panty raid.), which was think. I wondered precisely what John meant to do to try and rectify the situation, gave up and played Galaxy of Fantasy with Joker for a couple of hours, and finally arose for my walk of shame when EDI summoned me to the briefing room.

When I arrived, the whole team so far was gathered: Zaeed, Jack, Mordin, Garrus, Miranda, and Jacob- with the addition of a young krogan in the far corner. It couldn’t be Okeer, I determined; Okeer was an old warlord conducting experiments. I decided to ask later. Also present were the erstwhile Shepards; Charlie back in her Cerberus CO suit, John standing by her side in the typical regs with his arms crossed.

“So, recent interactions on our missions have led me to do a bit of thinking, regarding leadership and…organization.” She leaned on the handrail. “The infrastructure we’re implementing now; where I have you all as a standing pool and I take two of you out on a run- well, sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.” she sighed, and looked to us all. “I believe a rearrangement is in order.”

                “A bit of godam say would be nice,” Zaeed spoke up, and several of us voiced our agreement. Charlie held up a hand for quiet. “Yes, I understand. I haven’t been the most open to suggestions. I apologize for that. You have to understand…this is a new crew. I’m a little…off center.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’m still regaining my balance.” She opened her eyes. “I’m not in the Alliance anymore. My men…you…aren’t paid to do what I say. I’ve been commanding as if your loyalty is to me. Presumptive. I’m sorry.” She eyed us all in turn. “But you’re still my crew. Our purpose is clear, our mission is laid out.” she looked down to the rail. “As clear as it can be. We’re going to stop the Collectors, but first we have to find out how to work together. That’s new, to some of you.”

She pushed off from the rail. “From now on we’ll be alternating squad leadership- I’ll be leading the Omaha fire team on some runs, and John here will be heading up Squad Bravo some others.” She looked to us all. “I’m thinking he might mesh well with some of you here. Is that acceptable, for now?”

There were general murmurs of assent, and she nodded to us all. “Good. Then you’re all dismissed.” She afforded me a brief look as I stepped out of the room, pausing in the hall and letting the others stream out to their respective haunts. John was the last out; though Charlie was still inside.

“Talking with the Illusive Man about the krogan super soldier,” he provided. “Okeer didn’t make it, but he passed Grunt off to us.”

I faced him, awkwardly playing coronas with my fingers. “Thanks,” I said again.

He snorted. “I should be thanking you. An excuse to advocate for my own fire team again? I could kiss you. If you weren’t…you know.”

“Back ‘atcha,” I snorted, punching him in the arm. “You know, damn shame you’re sworn off vaginas. I kinda like you.”

“Ow,” he said, ignoring my latter sentiments and rubbing his bicep.

“You know, for a man who doesn’t ever get any, you sure are a pussy.”

“You do this to everyone?”

“That’s how I show affection.”

“Fuck me running.”

“I’m short about six inches, Rainbows. Should’ve let me screw off when you had the chance, you’re stuck with me now…”


	8. A Meeting with Old Associates, with an Unexpected Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Bioware. Phew, long chapter! References, foreshadowing, and subtly subtle hints abound! There are definitely some quiet nods to other characters in the series here: kudos to anyone who catches them. Thanks so much to the people who've been leaving me all these lovely encouraging comments and enjoying the story so far. Hope you love this latest installment!

Our next stop was the Citadel: center of the galaxy, even though it was located more to the galaxy’s near left. It was almost the farthest I had ever been from Omega; but Kahje was still a longer trek. The Citadel, however, was an entirely different story: a huge, bustling center filled with species of all kinds, shops and embassies and the Citadel Council- I couldn’t help feel somewhat nervous, during our approach. Charlie promised a short trip: she would go and speak with this Councilor Anderson, and then we would be off to return to our objectives.

I went to the bridge to watch our approach: the station emerged from the nebula like a hanar skimming suddenly up to the surface of the ocean, and soon we were weaving amongst the Citadel fleet, to make our way to the Zakera Ward docks.

“Holy hell,” I murmured, looking out amongst the ships floating amongst the lilac stardust. Turian, salarian, asari- a huge dreadnought skimmed right by our starboard side and my nose almost pressed to the glass as I followed it with huge eyes.

“The _Destiny Ascension_ ,” Joker told me, “The flagship of the Citadel fleet.”

“Look at that monster,” I half-laughed.

“Yeah,” he said softly, almost wistfully, and didn’t say much after that (odd for him.) When we had pulled into the dock, EDI’s winking blue globe popped up to inform me that the commander would like to inform me that I was on her shore party bound for the Presidium Embassies, and to please report accordingly to the airlock.

I looked to Joker. “Coming?”

“Nope,” he reclined, putting his hands behind his head. “I’m good right here.”

“Couple words coming to mind here; chair, ass, attached.” I smirked, turned to go. He sighed after me. “I hate to see you go, but _damn_ , do I love to watch you leave.”

“Helm the ship, Joker.”

“We’re in port!”

I reported to the airlock: Garrus and John were already standing there waiting. John had abandoned his Cerberus regs for a leather jacket branded with the N7 logo and a pair of jeans. Charlie, similarly, had ditched her CO suit for a pair of cargo pants and a tee with N7 branded across the right breast (couldn’t honestly say I was surprised, wearing the Cerberus colors wasn’t a quick way to make friends.) Garrus, though, still had the freakin’ visor, and the charred, missile-punched armor (why?) on, arms crossed in front of his barrel chest, tapping one clawed foot.

“Good to go?” I questioned, propping a hip up on the doorframe and crossing my arms, bracing one boot’s toe to the polished floors.

The N7 clones straightened up as one, and Charlie nodded at us all, “All right. Let’s go. First order of business; I’ve got a new dossier from the Illusive Man- a master thief, Kasumi Goto, who we will apparently meet here at the docks. After that’s taken care of, we head to Anderson’s office.”

After a collective-thuggie nod, she punched the door controls, and led us out into the Wards.

Finding Kasumi Goto did not turn out to be remarkably hard- as soon as we stepped near the customs scanner; an advertisement crackled, went static, and then displayed the mostly-hooded and shadowed face of a Japanese girl. “Please enter your password, Commander Shepard,” said the advertisement, “And receive a free gift!”

Charlie shot us a backwards look. I made a shooing motion, John nodded, and Garrus shrugged. She took a deep breath, and marched forward. The advertisement watched her expectantly. “Please enter your password, Commander Shepard.”

“Silence is…golden?” Charlie offered, sounding quite confused by the proceedings.

“Commander Shepard,” said the advertisement. “Good to finally meet you.” I discreetly pulled up my omni-tool, and started scanning the area, scowling and eyeballing the upper levels.

“You’ve been briefed?”

“Of course. Has Cerberus informed you of the arrangements of my employment?”

Charlie paused. “No. They haven’t.” Somewhat stiffly. My omni-tool picked up the signal- cloaked very well, I might add. Good. But I was better. I looked up and found our master thief, pacing the rafters.

“A simple mission. We’ll be infiltrating Donovan Hock’s mansion and getting back my partner’s graybox.”

“If it’s what Cerberus promised you, we’ll get it done.”

“Right, well, then, we can wrap this little chat right up,” I called directly up to her level, “You look pretty stupid talking to an advertisement, Charles.”

Kasumi Goto looked right down at me. “Impressive.” She conceded. Then, she looked to the _Normandy_. “I’ve already moved my things onboard.” She hopped down to the rapid transit station, and turned back to us. “See you on the _Normandy,_ Shep.”

We watched her leave.

“Huh.” I said. “I like her.”

Charlie turned away to the C-Sec customs. “Well, we’d better get going.”

“Are you sure we don’t have to shoot any mercs?” Garrus quipped. “Take down any mechs? Negotiate with uncooperative politicians?”

“I think we’re clear,” she said, smiling.

“Yeah, except…customs.” I winced. “I don’t think I’m registered officially…anywhere.”

“My records should get us through,” John said, and we headed for the tunnel as a pack.

When we stepped inside, a scanner ran over the length of us, making me jump and cross my arms over my chest. John patted my shoulder a few times, but I jumped again when the grid turned red and started bleeping frantically. “I didn’t touch anything, I swear.”

The turian C-Sec officer running the unit checked up the interface, and then paused. “Commander Shepard. Well, I see the problem. It appears our database thinks you’re…dead?”

Charlie crossed her arms, sarcastic smile painting her probably-illegal-in-Citadel-space cheekbones. “I was mostly dead for two years. Try finding that under government records.”

“Mostly dead, which means she was also slightly alive.” I stepped forward, propping my hip on the wall and flashing my very best ‘you me horizontal surface now’ eyes. The cop’s eyes went straight to the dip of my waist. “Can you refer us to your superiors? I’m sure we can get this sorted out right quick.”

The turian cop blinked vacantly at me, then punched hurriedly into his console. “Of course, of course, right through here, ma’am- Captain Bailey can see to it, Commander. Sorry for the inconvenience.” John and Charlie began forward, Garrus trailing after them and me bringing up the rear, shooting the cop a saucy wink on my way out. I thought I saw his eyes go wide and his mandibles judder, but I couldn’t be sure. Up ahead Charlie stopped in front of the desk with the small plate labeled ‘CAPT A-O. BAILEY’, and leaned on the polished chrome surface.

“Commander Shepard,” said Capt. A-O. Bailey, nodding once. “Armando-Owen Bailey. I see your trouble. Now…normally you’d have to go to a few places to get this sorted out- customs, first, then another visit to the embassies, a stop by the treasury- ‘spending a year dead’ is a popular tax dodge.” He gestured at the button. “How about I just press this button here and save you about nine days of running around?”

“Is that legal?” questioned Charlie, brows knitting in concern. Bailey hit the button. “Sure. Imagine you’ve got more important things to do. Get on with your business; I’ll be here if you need anything.”

Charlie blinked. “Thanks.” She turned, almost dizzily, and led us off towards a cab stand. John followed after her, whilst Garrus and I brought up the rear. I shook my head slightly, turned back to eyeball the scanning tunnel and thought I saw the turian looking my way. “Never thought that would work. Much less that well.”

“Hm?” Garrus looked down at me, visor blinking and feeding him information in turian writing that was scrolling too fast for me to comprehend.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to charm that guard with my womanly wiles,” I clarified, snorting. “I’ve seen turian women, and they’re just about as different from us as the sun and the moon.”

“Well,” Garrus cleared his throat. “With turians, it’s more about…capability, skills. Brains, prowess, confidence; that’s what we’re after.”

I laughed a single, barking note. “Bullshit, Mandibles. You guys are as weak-willed in the face of temptation as the rest of us. What curls your toes, then? Claws. Whatever.”

Garrus looked resolutely away from me; mandibles twitching in what I imagined was embarrassment. “Well…new day and age of acceptance. You know? Open-minded. It’s not Relay 314 anymore.”

“Uh-huh.”

He sighed, eyeballing his feet. “You’re…not much different from the asari. And…waists. Some of your women have fair impressive ones.”

“Only the curvy ones, yeah?” I elbowed him. “I gotcha.” We clambered into the skycar. “Bless this bod,” I sighed, running my hands down my sides.

“Please stop,” said Garrus.

The ride to the embassies was short; though the others might have disagreed (I was humming the _Blasto_ theme the whole way up), and soon enough we were walking into the office of one Councilman Anderson, who was speaking with a set of holograms that I picked out as the Council. “-should be arriving any-” he turned at the door opening. “Shepard,” he said, stepping towards us and then halting in his tracks. He looked back to the Council. “She’s here.”

Charlie, obligingly, strode forward, into the view of the Council.

“Commander, we had heard the reports you were alive,” said the asari councilor, “But we weren’t sure that they were true.”

“I’ve been…off the radar for a while,” Charlie said, crossing her arms. “The important thing is that I’m back- and I know who’s been behind these colony abductions.” She pulled up a file on her omni-tool, showed it to them. “The Collectors- and I think they’re working for the Reapers.”

The turian councilor spoke first. “Ah, yes,” he said, finger-quoting with the one appendage available, “Reapers. You came spouting about all of this when Saren and his geth attacked the Citadel two years ago, but what evidence is there?”

“Only you and your crew ever saw the Reaper,” the asari councilor said. “Only you ever spoke to the Prothean VI. And on top of that all, we have intel reports that you’re working with an acknowledged terrorist organization- this is treason, a capital offense.”

Charlie remained calm under fire, looking only to Anderson.

“We cannot support you in the open,” the salarian councilor shared. “But we can help you from the sidelines. Provide you a bit of levity on your operations. We’re willing to restore your Spectre status, so long as you restrict your operations to the Terminus Systems.”

If it were me, I would have told them to screw off and walked right out the door, but Charlie only nodded and stood at ease. “I’m honored. Thank you.”

“Until later, Commander. Councilman.” The rest of the Council nodded at Charlie and Anderson, and the hologram disappeared.

Barely had that happened when the door opened. “Anderson,” said the grey-haired man in the white suit with the perpetually angry-sounding voice, before halting entirely, eyes narrowing. “Shepard,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Udina,” Charlie replied, quite cool. Civil, but cool.

“Cerberus,” Udina sighed. “And now, Spectre…do you have any idea what the throwback from this is going to do to us? Do the words ‘political shit-storm’ mean anything to you?”

Anderson eyeballed the Udina fellow like he were a child testing his patience. “I’m handling it, Ambassador. Now you go and handle the recoil.”

Udina muttered, sounding about half-dragon and half-krogan, and took his leave of the office.

“Sorry about that,” shared Anderson. “He’s been a pain ever since you dropped me this Council job instead of him. Sometimes I just need to remind him who’s in charge.”

“There’s a reason I picked you,” Charlie said. “Don’t mind him; he’s just doing his job.”

“I suppose.” Anderson sighed, his shoulders dropping. “That all went better than I expected,” he sighed, looking to our little company. “John, good to see you again. Officer Vakarian.” He looked to me, pausing.

“Glenn,” I said, “New acquaintance.” He nodded once at me, then moved to the railing overlooking the Presidium. John and Charlie followed.

“How have you been?” she asked him.

“Trying to deal with this councilor job you dropped on me.” he chuckled slightly. “It’s a great honor. Not what I’m used to, though.” He straightened up. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just beating my head against a wall. I can’t blame them, not wanting to believe it…” he sighed. “But I know how important it is, so I keep trying.” He leaned down again, looked at the two of them in turn. “Fighting the good fight, right?”

“I hear that,” John said, quiet, and there was a brief silence.

“It’s good to see you again,” Anderson punctuated. “Now, at least, I can put you in contact with Admiral Hackett. I hope once you’re done with…” he waved a hand. “-whatever this is; you might consider coming back.”

“Of course,” said Charlie. She looked to him, sideways. “I hoped you would have some answers for us. Cerberus had some information on the old team; but some of it you might be able to state better.”

“What’s happened to Kaidan Alenko?” John blurted, causing a brief silence. “Staff Lieutenant,” he added, quieter, after a pause.

“Staff Commander, now,” Anderson shared. “He’s still with us, still active duty. I…can’t say more. Not while you’re with Cerberus.” I could see John’s shoulders droop.

“I’m sorry,” said Anderson.

Another silence.

“Well,” Charlie said, finally, “It was good talking again. We should probably go; this was only meant to be a brief stop. We’re going to hit up Illium next.”

“Then good luck,” Anderson said, straightening to face them both and shake their hands in turn. “Come back to us when you’re done.”

“Always.” Charlie turned back for the door, gesturing at us to move out. Garrus nodded once, and moved to the door console- the lock pinged and the doors hissed open before his claw even touched the appropriate key. Suddenly, he was nose-to-nose with a pair of sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. If his mandibles could go any wider they would have fallen off.

“Paxton,” he blurted, “I thought you were-”

 _Thwack._ Her hand made solid contact with his bad side, and he staggered a little before bracing himself on the edge of a chrome planter, pressing a hand to the abused plates and staring with huge eyes.

“Out of your way?” she finished, fists clenching, a corona brewing around her entire form. “Do you have _any_ idea what I’ve been through?” she stepped inside, the corona intensifying.

“Paxton, calm down-” John started to step forward, but she rounded on him with a sharp, “ _Don’t tell me to calm down, you rotten son of a bitch._ ” Two sensor pens belonging to datapads flew across the room, one bouncing harmlessly off of Garrus’ raised gauntlet and the other clocking John solidly in the temple. _Wait, isn’t that her own mother?_ I stopped, suddenly confused.

“First _you_ disappear on me,” she snapped at a wounded-looking Garrus, who would probably be crying if turians cried. “No _goodbye_ , no _note_ , no _nothing_! Then _you-_ ” she spun around to John, “You _lie_ to me, for two _fucking_ years, that you’re on Feros helping Zhu’s Hope, and I’m none the wiser until _Shiala_ shows up on Illium and begs me to void some invasive medical contract- which I thought was funny, because weren’t you there helping them in the first place?- and after I sweet-talk some racist asari bitch into revising it, she mentions offhand _she hasn’t seen any of us since we were there two fucking years ago._ ” A mug went flying across the room and shattered somewhere to the right of his head. “And I have to arrange a fucking appointment with Doctor Octa- mother _fucking_ T’Soni, because apparently we didn’t save the galaxy together or anything, no big, not that I saved her life from geth or fucking krogan warlords or any of that, and only after I jump through all of the corporate shit and _finally_ sit down in her office does she tell me in that _stupid fucking monotone of hers_ , ‘oh yeah, John’s been tearing up the Terminus Systems looking for Vakarian for two years now. Also, your sister is alive, and I may have had a part in that. She’s working with Cerberus, too. You know, those bastards that were fucking with _rachni,_ and _husks,_ and _goddamned thorian creepers_!’” she flung another mug, this time onto the floor at her feet, where it shattered violently, cold coffee soaking into the floor. “The ones who killed Kahoku and ran all those goddamn _tests_ on _Toombs,_ and probably me too, _if_ they had gotten to me.” there were tears in her voice now, gleaming in her eyes. The corona was fading, and she was looking more broken now than anything. Her rage was expended. Now only the hurt was left. It was a state I knew all too well.

“And then…” she uttered. “And then going back to my apartment, and waiting by the terminal, thinking, ‘they have to call me. Of course they will. As soon as they can.’ And _nothing._ And packing up and catching the next ride to the Citadel, on the off-chance they check in there with the old CO.” her fists were shaking, and the tears were running silently down her red, blotchy face. “Fucking unbelievable,” she muttered, and then she was sucking in the rapid breaths that meant crying was inevitable.

Apparently, since everyone else in the room currently sucked giant assholes, I ended up being the one hugging her awkwardly after patting her shoulder. She latched onto me like a lifeline, despite not having a clue in the galaxy who I was. Well, there’s another one for the resume. Most popular guy in the room.

Garrus slowly stood up from his half-fallen-down position, still staring widely, Anderson was looking about from person to person as if he wasn’t sure where to even begin, and John was rubbing his temple, staring resolutely at the floor, Charlie watching us with exposed concern in her eyes.

“Hey, there, take a breath,” I said, patting her on the back. “We’re all good now. Got all that out of your system, I hope. If that’s what blowing off steam looks like, I’d hate to see your temper tantrum.” Paxton laughed wetly into my shoulder, and I nodded internally to myself. Right, okay, I had this. This, I could do. “Don’t think we’ve met. I’m Glenn. You’re Paxton? I’ve heard about you.”

She let go of me, stepping back, sniffling once and wiping her nose, eyes, nodding at me. She turned to Anderson. “Sorry about the mess,” she said, and the sensor pens floated back into place, the remnants of the shattered mugs picking themselves up and dropping agreeably into the trash cans. “I’ll fund you for replacements.” She looked from Garrus, to John, to Charlie, to Garrus again, and shook her head, an almighty scowl plastered across her face. “I’m done with you,” she said, darkly, waving a _fuck this_ hand and heading out the door. “I’m done with all of you.”

“Pax,” Garrus called, after her, as vulnerable as I’d ever heard a turian sound, but his only acknowledgment was another _screw you_ wave and the door closing behind her.

The remaining Shepards shared a few glances, and Garrus looked down, lost, to his wringing claws. If…turians wring their claws. Whatever.

“I should-” Charlie started to say, but something spurred me to speak up. “No.” all other company looked to me, and I tried to stand a little straighter. “I’ll talk to her. You’ve known her your whole life; and I could tell from just ten minutes she’s not in the mood to listen to any of you right now.”

Charlie and John shared another look. Garrus kept staring at his claws. “Go on,” John said. “Tell us later…how it went.” Quietly, he patted both his companions on the shoulder and murmured to them. I punched the console, and headed back out into the commons. “ _Paxton Shepard has flagged a cab,”_ EDI came in, over my earpiece. “ _She appears to be heading for the Dark Star Lounge in Zakera Ward._ ”

“Got it. Thanks, EDI.”

“ _My pleasure, Glenn_.”

I got my own cab down to the Wards, stopped to check a map, and walked the rest of the way to the Darkstar Lounge. I stepped inside, had to scan the crowds for my target, and finally spotted her sitting at the bar, nursing something fresh. I strolled up to the place, slid up onto a stool and folded my hands. “What she’s having,” I told the turian bartender, then looking sideways to Paxton.

“What do you want?” she muttered.

“Just a chat.” I slid the bartender a credit chit as he set the drink down in front of me. “Do you know what we’re after? This…mission, we’re on?”

“Got that much from Liara,” Paxton said, tracing the rim of her glass and sighing, staring into the golden-brown depths like she would find the answer there. “You’re after the Collectors. Planning to stop the abductions. Working with Cerberus.”

“According to Charles, they’re only providing resources. She’s still calling the shots. Whatever. I don’t like it either.” I tossed back some of the drink; wincing against the strong burn. “Jesus, is this lighter fluid or ryncol? Don’t answer that; I’ll just lay off the flamethrowers for a few hours.” Paxton smiled, but it was quickly replaced with the depressed look again.

I watched her for a moment, quiet. “You know, alcohol isn’t the answer, but it can make the problem disappear.”

She chuckled dryly. “That true?”

“Yeah,” I said, drinking out of my glass again. “You can stay here and get smashed- you’ll miss the _Normandy_ pulling out of port.” I shrugged. “Or, you could come with us. I have a feeling your siblings have a spot for you in the suicide squad.”

She snorted. “Suicide squad?”

I shrugged again. “Whatever you want to call it. They revived their little fire dream team scheme, too, in case you were wondering. Jeez, John told me what yours was- Tango?”

“Delta.”

“Right, I was horribly off. ‘S the lighter fluid.” I took another sip of the stuff. “I have a feeling they’d have your fire team waiting for you again. Tell me what it is you do, Pax.”

“Well.” She faced ahead again, sighing. “Back on the SR-1 I used to repair the Mako with Garrus…” she trailed off. “I’m an adept, specifications-wise. Off-duty I like to research biotics. Amps, prototypes, enhancements, what have you. There’s not enough eezo in the galaxy for me.”

“-meanwhile, the biotics keep being born, and we have a mountain of it on the SR-2,” I told her. “Not to mention the fully-equipped tech lab, on-board AI, ex-STG salarian xenoscientist.”

Her eyes were gleaming now. “Oh?” she sipped from her glass. I did the same. “Yep. And just down the elevator shaft, right past the mess and down the hall, the main battery, where Mandibles spends all his time. When he’s not obsessing over you- don’t argue with me, I sleep in the surveillance room. I see everything. Do you know he has this holo of you on his omni-tool? Sometimes if it’s really late and he’s been dipping into the turian brandy stores, he pulls it up and just kind of…pets his talons across your face. Sort of touching, also creepy. But he definitely cares.” I leaned sideways, on the bar counter. “And so do your brother and your sister. I don’t even have to tell you that. They haven’t stopped talking about you since the day I met them.”

Paxton looked sideways, distant, off to the walls, out through the windows and to the docks where I knew our ship sat waiting.

“It won’t be easy, working out these issues with everyone.” I folded my hands. “It won’t be easy by a long shot. A friend of mine once said that no things worth keeping are.” She looked to me, took a deep breath. I opened my hands to her. “Meantime, we’ve got enough fresh faces to keep you entertained. What do you say? Are you in?”

Paxton looked out the window to the SR-2. For the longest time she said nothing, but then a smile touched the lips identical to Charlie’s, perhaps tinted with a bit of color and slightly thinner. She turned to me. “I think I’m…quite ready for another adventure.”

I held my glass out to her, and she lifted hers to clink them together. We both downed the rest of our drinks, in silent toast for what was to come: home was officially behind us, the world ahead.


	9. Yet another Unhelpful Encounter, Perhaps This Time Downright Derisive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit, as always, to Bioware. Apologies for the delay, people! I was busy taking finals and all that lovely stuff. (gag)
> 
> Anyway, school is out for the summer and I'll be working on this nonstop, round-the-clock. Hope you enjoy this latest update!

It seemed fate had designs for us to never go to Illium. Not six minutes after we set foot back on the decks of the _Normandy,_ the Illusive Man had a job for us to do. Charlie was in the briefing room speaking with him for almost twenty minutes; and she called all the team to her after she wrapped up. “A colony in the Terminus just went dark,” she told us. “It’s the most warning we’ve ever had, but we still don’t have much time. The Collectors won’t be far. The colony’s called Horizon-” she pulled up a holo-map of the place, key points turning red. “We’re getting there ASAP and stopping it. Joker?”

“Already en route, Commander.”

“Good man.” She looked back to the rest of us. “All of you- this mission will be different from all the ones we’ve done before. We’re not taking a small ground team. This will be a full-out defensive strike against the Collectors. If they’re coming in force, so are we. All of us are going down there.” Jack, Grunt, and Zaeed made approving growling noises. “We’ll be implementing the new infrastructure I discussed before; but Omaha and Bravo teams will both be deployed.” She looked to Paxton. “As well as Delta. I’ve reviewed your combat reports, skills and specialties, and I’ve placed you accordingly with each squad.” She leaned on the handrail. “Grunt, Jack, Zaeed- you’re with John. You’re Squad Bravo this round.” John raised a hand, and the three migrated his way. “Mordin, Glenn, and Garrus- you’re running with Pax. You’re Squad Delta.” I crossed my arms, stepped over with the others to Paxton’s side. “That leaves Miranda, Jacob, Kasumi- all of you with me. We’re the Omaha Squad.” She pushed off from the handrail. “Ready your weapons and your armor- everything you think that you need. Be ready to go.”

We gave our murmurs of assent, prepared to depart to do as such when she spoke out: “One more thing.” We all stopped, looked to her. “The name will only have significance for a few of you.” She sighed, heavily, her shoulders sagging under an immense weight. She looked down, closed her eyes. “Kaidan Alenko is on Horizon.”

John turned around, his eyes opening wide and soft. “Kaidan?” he asked, “He’s there?”

Charlie nodded, grimly, without a word, eyes maintaining their thousand-yard stare.

Paxton shifted forward, her arms crossing. “Do we know that for sure?” she asked. “Because I’m sure we can just take everything this Illusive Man says for a helpful truth.”

Jack scoffed.

Charlie straightened up. “I know. He’s tricky, a lot of what he says…” she paused. “Most of what he says is weighted. But he thinks the Collectors might have taken a special interest in me. And they might be targeting the people I’m close to, to get to me.”

John stepped forward. “Then I personally volunteer to lead the preliminary strike team.”

“No,” said Charlie, flatly. “Bravo Squadron is carrying all of our heavy hitters. You’re coming in third; following Delta, who are carrying the techies, and Omaha, the biotics.” She pulled up the map again, placed our three icons: Omaha’s blue wing, Bravo’s red star, and Delta’s purple hybrid of the two. “Delta will go in first- they can bypass any doors, salvage any tech and move overall the most covertly of the three. Omaha will follow close behind, and Bravo at the rearguard. First sign of the Collectors; we rendezvous and charge them together. We’re stronger collectively than apart.” She brought the map down. “There are going to be a lot of them- we hold them off best we can, and if there are too many, we call in the Alliance for reinforcements. We’re going to get in there, stop the Collectors from taking this colony like the rest; and hopefully find out what they’re after. Clear?” Amid murmurs of assent, she nodded. “Dismissed. Our ETA’s in two hours.”

As we began to disperse, I watched John, before breaking off and following Mordin out to the tech lab, flanking him by the glass case that held our resident seeker, angrily pinging off of the walls. The door opened again behind us and Charlie followed us inside, crossing her arms and taking a deep, stabilizing breath. “Tell me you have something.”

Mordin turned, studying her: then, he cracked a smile. “Yes,” he said, pulled up the armor interface and began integrating the countermeasure with our gear. “Glenn was indispensable help.” I looked to Mordin, thrown off, but Charlie simply nodded. “Good work, you two. See you at launch.” She left us to our work.

A silence followed. “Should prepare for mission,” Mordin said, after a moment, still working.

“Right,” I said, dumbly (I probably said right too much, why was that?), heading out to the door. “I’ll do that.”

“Looking forward to watching each other’s backs,” he said, looking up to me. “And we will. Lots, still, to talk about.” I waited for more, but he seemed to be done talking, so I nodded and headed out to my room- to check my guns, stock up on snacks for the impending exercise of my biotics, and make sure the countermeasure to the seeker swarms was uploaded and ready to go.

Just ninety minutes later we were all loading onto the shuttle. I slid into the pilot’s seat, punched the controls, and waited until Charlie said, “Go,” to back out of the bay and hover on out to the planet.

The indigenous plant life was a long, yellowy, dry-looking grass; which I saw once we broke the dark cloud cover. “Good God,” I muttered, staring out the windshield at the huge ship, almost like a huge hive, parked upright in the dead center of the colony. “That thing’s massive.”

“Take us in,” Charlie said, “Fast and quiet.” Behind me, John let out a breath, and Paxton shifted on her feet. Obligingly, I lowered the shuttle to a quiet, shadowy corner of the colony and cut off the engines, popping the doors. The team began to disembark, donning their weapons and checking omni-tools. “Mordin, you’re sure this countermeasure will work?” Charlie asked, as the buzz of seeker swarms became prevalent around us.

“Prototype formula,” replied Mordin. “At very least, should confuse swarms, make us invisible.” He nodded, smiling. “Looking forward to seeing if we survive.”

“Great,” muttered John, looking about. All in all, he seemed more on edge than the others, more raring to go, like he was on a timer. I watched him before turning to the head of the group. Paxton crept ahead, peered around cover, and looked back to us. “Delta, after me.” Mordin, Garrus, and I all cocked our weapons, and headed after her into the colony.

All was quiet, for a long time. We moved stealthily through the foreground, staying out of sight of our enemies: easy enough, considering that they were nowhere to be found. “It’s too quiet,” I muttered, into the mic jutting from my visor.

“Is there such a thing as being encouraged by no sign of enemies?” Jacob came in on the frequency.

“Forgive my pessimism,” I muttered, “But this is the type of quiet that points to a bunch of them waiting to jump off the roofs.” I did a quick scan above us, scowling. “No signs of hostiles yet. Stay close.”

A few more moments. Paxton peered out from cover, checked for enemies, whispered, “All clear. Go, go, go.” We broke cover, sprinted and rolled behind crates that were lying out in the grass. Paxton watched us all make it, then ran herself.

That was when hell broke loose.

Like flicking a switch, a cacophony of eerie clicking noises began on the air, and massive bugs with assault rifles flew into the area. “ _Fuck_!” I barked, and blew one’s head off. “Skipper, we got a problem.”

“What is it, Delta?” Charlie barked.

“Big fuckin’ bugs with assault rifles, Charles, did you think I was calling in about the pizza man? Get your asses up here!” There were a few approving roars over the channel that I could pin on Bravo, but I was focused again on our enemies. The Collectors- they had to be Collectors- were being joined by humanoid creatures that reminded me uncomfortably of the twenty-first century zombie epidemic movies; groaning and running straight for us, intent and _con_ tent to tear us apart with their bare hands. “Husks!” Paxton yelled, and I assumed she had seen those before. I popped up, yanked two of them off the ground, and bashed them together until they stopped flailing. An incinerating blast from Mordin’s omni-tool fried another few- “Flammable! Or inflammable. Forget which. Doesn’t matter.” Oddly enough, I started laughing hysterically, and blew another Collector off its feet. A husk broke our line of fire, went running straight for Paxton, and was halfway to grabbing her when its head simply exploded, in a mess of cybernetics and pulpy, rotted flesh. The owner of the slug was found when Garrus popped the heat sink on his rifle, rose from cover in the newly-cleared coast and went to her side. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said, looking ashen. “I’m fine.” There was husk…whatever (essence of husk?) on the side of her face, which he gingerly rubbed off- it was a close enough picture to what he would do with _her_ picture when he was drunk, to give him- both of them- pause. He lifted his talons away, dropped his hand awkwardly by his side, and cleared his throat, shuffling forward to where Mordin and I knelt down beside the dead husk.

“You knew what these were,” I said. “You’ve fought with them before?”

She nodded. “On Eden Prime. And…throughout the time we were chasing Saren.”

“Look human,” said Mordin. “Suppose we know what’s happening to colonists.”

Garrus shook his head. “Didn’t the geth impale their victims on giant spikes to turn them into husks? I don’t see any of those around here.”

Paxton took a look around herself. “No,” she said, finally. “They must have already had these husks.” Gingerly, she nudged it with her boot. “And these look different from the husks we fought on Eden Prime. They’re more advanced. Evolved.” She shook her head. “This all but proves what we thought. The Collectors must be working with the Reapers.”

It was then that Omaha and Bravo finally rounded the corner; their guns drawn- once they saw the dead bodies littering the place, they stopped in their tracks and put their weapons away. “Great job, guys,” I called, “Real fast reaction time.”

“We came as quickly as we could,” John snapped, and I near recoiled at the unbridled venom in his voice.

“All right, all right. Jeez. Anyway, we got husks. Pax has details. I’ll go look ahead.” Tail tucked firmly between my legs, I headed out to peer around the corner. The coast was clear; save one odd sight- a human, standing frozen like someone had hit a pause button. I hissed, snapping back at the others and gesturing them forward. Charlie rushed out and peered out at where I looked; watching as a Collector came, loaded the human into a hive-ish looking pod, and carried it away.

“They’re taking them alive,” I whispered. “Rules out the husks. Leaves experimentation.”

“Likely,” agreed Mordin. As if someone shifted the focus, I realized a large door existed just to our left. I gestured at it, and Charlie nodded, gesturing us forward. I dashed first, bypassed the door in seconds, waved everyone through, and had it shut tight again. “Anyone in here?” Paxton called, into the dark. There was a shuffling noise and the emergence of a man in a hat, wide-eyed at first us, and then our nonhuman company. “Who are you?” he hissed.

“We’re here to help,” Charlie said, soothingly, stepping forward to do what she did best.

“That’s what that Alliance grunt said,” muttered the man. “And since we got him here, nothing but trouble. All we know, they’re spying on us.” He scowled, spat on the ground. “Feh.”

John began to storm forward, but Charlie held him back by an outstretched arm. “Where is he? This Alliance rep?”

“Last I know he was out there,” he said. “They…they got everyone.” He stopped, trailed off, shook his head.

“His name,” Charlie said. “The Alliance guy. What was his name?”

“Kaidan Alenko. Some kind of war hero.” The man scowled at us, looking about ready to growl out some more discredits.

“You better damn believe it, he helped take Saren out,” John snapped, and Charlie gave him a sharp look.

The mechanic waved an uncaring hand.

“Do you know why they sent him here?”

“Official story? He was here to calibrate the defense turrets.” I swear I heard Garrus’ mandibles perk up at that, and gave him a sideways look.

Paxton looked to Charlie. “We could use those against the Collectors.”

“Collectors?” the mechanic asked, at that. “They’re…they’re real? I thought they were just a myth. Propaganda, you know, to keep us in Alliance space.”

“They’re very real,” I provided. “And they’re cleaning out colonies. Probably for live experiments; at least, that’s what we’ve got based on the evidence. A hypothesis. Anyway. We could use those turrets. How do we get them online?”

“The controls are that way,” he gestured, out the opposite doors. “Getting them online, you could do, but we never got them working.”

“We’ll have it covered,” I said.

The mechanic shook his head, like _we_ were the crazy ones. “I’ll let you out, but I’m locking the door behind you.”

“Noted,” Paxton said, pulling out her rifle once more and punching the door console. We began to file out, back into the open, and the garage door slammed closed behind us.

“They sure make ‘em friendly out in the Terminus,” Charlie muttered, and I snorted as we came out to the controls; in an exposed yard filled with stacked crates. She punched the console, and a hum announced the coming-online of the guns. EDI’s voice came in on the channel. “I have access to the colony’s defensive protocols. Calibrating them should be simple, but I will need time to sync the _Normandy_ ’s weapons to the turrets. I will need you to hold the position.”

I looked around. “Great. No cover, Collectors everywhere. Why is it always claws and guns? Why can’t we piss off a fuzzy planet? Still dangerous, but hey, bunnies.”

“Anything else, _Normandy_?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” chimed in Joker. “I suggest you grab ass and run for cover; they’re closing in on your position.”

“Right,” she said, “Omaha, I want you focusing your biotics on the husks. They die easy up in the air. Delta, aim your tech strikes to break Collector barriers and fry their weapons. Bravo, gun them down. Let’s go!”

No sooner had we dove behind the piles of crates did the Collectors arrive, husks pouring out before them- it was then I discovered that a good incinerate would completely fry a husk, as easy as a pull or a warp. “Tech powers work on the husks!” I called, then ducked behind my crates again. I shared a look with Jack. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You get the tattoos all at once, or did you need a few days?”

“Better believe it; I’m a home-grown bitch from Omega, we’re all or nothing.”

As one, we popped up and shockwaved three Collectors into oblivion, smashing three husks together in the air and popping some disturbing mega-husk with a few well-placed shots.

“So glad I took this job.”

“I’m not sure if that’s snark or truth, Jack, and I’ll decide later.”

EDI’s voice came in over the channels again. “I have powered up the turrets and am now syncing the defense protocols to the _Normandy._ Please continue to hold the position.”

“Like we were gonna sit here and stop shooting,” came Zaeed, over the channel.

“Hang in there, people,” Charlie said. “Casualties?”

“None.”

The next wave left no time for talking: the last creature to assail us was a huge winged…thing. I don’t even know what I would call it; what it was- all I knew was I had an intense desire to never see one again. Miranda got caught in the crossfire and Mordin set to first aid procedure as the turrets powered up around us, firing on the Collector ship and driving it off. I was so tired, that whole half hour or so was a blur.

The mechanic came running out after the ship. “No!” he called. “No, they…they got Lilith, and, and…”

“That ship is enormous,” Paxton snapped, clearly frazzled, recovering a few near misses, raven hair falling loose of her updo. “How the hell are we supposed to chase it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, desperately, “But you were the one with a plan. They took half the colony! You said you were here to help. You’re-”

“Commander Shepard,” someone said, from the side. A collective turning of heads, comparable to a pack of pyjaks or a flock of birds, revealed the new arrival, walking into the open with only a slight limp. It was a man, in the new model of the Aldrin Labs Onyx line. He had a pistol at his side, a distinct crackle to him that announced a biotic. His hair, black as night, looked like it was gelled up (hell if I knew how it’d held through a fight, because he looked like he’d definitely been through a fight). “Captain of the Normandy. First human Spectre. Savior of the Citadel.” Voice like velvet, too. He paused by the mechanic. “You should be in awe, Delan. You’re in the presence of a legend.” The fellow looked over to us, namely at our three Shepards by the front. “And a ghost.”

“Shepard?” Delan paused, now. “I’ve heard of you. Some big Alliance hero?” he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now.” Bitterly, he looked back to the newcomer. “Figures. All the good people we lost, and you get left behind.” He started away. “I’ve had enough of you Alliance types.”

We watched him go. Then, our attention was returned to the newcomer. Alliance types? …Alenko, that had been the guy’s name. _This should be interesting_ , I mused, crossing my arms and eyeballing him.

There was a brief pause in which nobody did anything, and then John and Alenko started forward as one, crashing into each other like the surf and sand, on the rare bits of it on Kahje. For a moment they stood, arms wrapped tightly around each other. Alenko, softly, “You were…dead, John.”

John stepped back, just barely out of Alenko’s reach. “Kaidan,” he murmured, reaching for his cheek, “How’ve you been?”

Alenko grabbed his fingers before they could touch his face, chewed on something with a scowl before retorting, “How’ve you been? Two years, and that’s all you have to say to me? First Charlie goes down, and then you disappear without a trace. They declared _you_ dead too. I’d…” his eyes traveled, to the motley crew- us- lingering behind, to Miranda and Jacob’s insignias. “They’d told me you were with Cerberus, that they were the ones taking all the colonists, but I didn’t know how to believe…” he broke off, taking another few steps back. “Why didn’t you talk to me, John? At least try to…” he shook his head. In terms of finishing his thoughts, it seemed he was firing on even less cylinders than I was.

“I couldn’t contact you, Kaidan,” said John, sounding about as emotional as I’d ever observed. “I was running from the Alliance. I couldn’t risk you getting tagged as some sort of accomplice. We were already in trouble; I think Anderson knew about…” he stopped, swallowed. “…about us. They wouldn’t have hesitated to pile that on; all they needed was a good excuse to court-martial you. I was going to come back. This was a family matter.” He stopped. “And I’m not working for Cerberus. I’m working for Charlie.”

 Kaidan’s eyes traveled to her, and he shook his head, brows furrowing angrily. “Commander,” he muttered.

“Kaidan…” she began.

“I would have followed you into hell. We all would have. Losing you was like…losing a limb.” He shook his head, in disgust. “I didn’t want to believe what Anderson said. You remember Cerberus; you remember Kahoku and those sick experiments. How could you do this?” he looked to Paxton, broken up, shaken. “All three of you,” almost as an afterthought, softly. “Garrus, too.”

“The Collectors are abducting human colonies and whisking them off for who knows what,” Charlie began, “You saw the Reaper, Kaidan. You were there; you knew about Sovereign and you saw Vigil. The Council is doing nothing, the Alliance is doing nothing- I have to stop this somehow.”

“You could come with us,” John added, sounding half-desperate, trying hard not to look like it. “Be on the team again. It’d be…just like old times.”

“Forget it.” Kaidan was backing away from us, truly scowling now. “You may have forgotten, but I know where my loyalties lie. I’m an Alliance soldier.” He paused. “Always will be.”

“Damn it, Kaidan,” snapped Garrus, in his two-toned vernacular, “You’re too emotional. You’re so focused on Cerberus, you don’t see the real threat.”

Kaidan just shook his head. “No. No, I see exactly what’s going on. You’ve betrayed everything you believed in. You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed me.”

“Kaidan-”

“I’ll see you later, John,” Kaidan cut him off, turning away, walking off.

John stood there a moment, center stage, his back to us- exposed, in the open, like a nerve. Then, he turned on his heel and stalked away, back the way we had come.

Charlie pressed into her earpiece. “Be ready to go, Joker.” She shook her head, frowning deeply, troubled. “I’ve had enough of this colony.”

I looked once to Mordin. We held eyes for a moment, and then I shook my head and started as well to the shuttle, trying to process what all had just happened.

 _We were already in trouble; I think Anderson knew about…about us._ John had had someone, on that old _Normandy_ , beyond Paxton and Garrus’ precarious dance around each other (behind me, he was fretting and fussing with the pieces of husk still stuck in her hair, whilst she assured him that her “fringe” was fine, she could just wash it out later. The both of them were smiling- nothing like a good hard fight, I supposed, to make all of your preexisting issues vanish.) When I reached the shuttle, he was already seated inside, rifle across his lap, looking resolutely away from everything but the dark inside corner of the Kodiak. The ride back up was silent, as was the unloading and dispersal to our quarters, to wait for the call to debrief. When it came, and when the crew gathered, John was predictably absent.

“It’s like Paxton said on Horizon,” Charlie said, straightening up. “The Collectors _are_ working with the Reapers. What they’re doing with the colonists, we still don’t know…but we’re changing our approach.” She leaned on the handrail. “We’re changing gears, and we’re going on the offensive. Any last business you need to take care of…well, think on it. This is officially a suicide mission. Our next stop is Illium. We’re going after a few more new dossiers. I’ll be taking Glenn and Kasumi with me for the first mission- everyone else can have a bit of shore leave. As of now, that’s it. Any questions?” she looked around, and nodded. “Dismissed.”

All of us began to disperse, talking amongst themselves, murmuring excitedly, concernedly, anticipating. Jacob lingered, crossing his arms (casual, for him). “Guess we’re really doing it, then. Hitting the Omega-4.”

Charlie nodded once, then a few times. “Think on anything you might need to clear up, Jacob.”

Jacob nodded, saluted, and headed out. I stayed behind, leaning on the wall, waiting for a few moments that Charlie spent quietly bent over.

“So,” I said, finally. “John and that Alenko guy.”

“Kaidan.”

“I know. I just…prefer to earn the privilege of names.” I strode a little closer. “You said you had a team, on the SR1. Who all else was on it?”

Charlie straightened up. “You know Garrus,” she told me. “Kaidan. Ash…died on Virmire.” I waited for her to say more, but she just shook her head. “Wrex…krogan warlord. He’s on Tuchanka now; at least, that’s what the Illusive Man said. Though I’m beginning to like less and less what he says. Tali- I ran into her shortly before I picked you up- a quarian machinist. Very talented, very bright.” She smiled. “And Liara T’Soni. She was an asari scientist researching the Protheans.”

I nodded. “Small squad. At least, compared to now. Ours is like a small army.”

“It’s not the SR1,” Charlie agreed. Then, she smiled slightly. “But it has its charms.” She gestured to the door. “Be ready when we get to Illium.”

“Finally, am I right?” I left the briefing room, sighed, rolled my shoulders, and headed for the surveillance room that was rapidly becoming home.


	10. A Gathering of Mentors in Opposite, But Not Quite Contrary Respects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit, as always, to Bioware. Phew, two mission chapters in a row! *wipes brow*
> 
> Anyway, we've got some more interesting content up ahead. You know, stuff you never actually play in the game. The original shit you're all here for. I should have the next chapter up tomorrow. Until then, enjoy!

Some people, as it turned out, already had pretty good ideas about what they needed to do by the time we got into port. Miranda’s business, in fact, happened to conveniently be on Illium; so John volunteered to go with her, and they headed to Eternity with Jacob in tow to meet with her informant. Garrus and Paxton found a table at the bar, and after ordering drinks they fell into a serious, heartfelt conversation about their lingering issues. At least, that’s what it looked like from far away. We left them and headed for the Nos Astra office blocks, bound for the office of one Liara T’Soni, who had paid all of our docking fees.

“She’s expecting you,” the assistant said, outside the appropriated door. Charlie punched the console and we walked inside- it was a spectacular city view, plus the back of some asari talking to some human on a hologram. “Have you ever faced an asari commando unit before?” she was saying, in a very smooth, very put-together voice. “Few humans have. You’ll pay, or I’ll flay you alive. With my mind.” As if she had suddenly sensed us (some asari had the unnerving ability to do that, it seemed), she turned around and gaped. “Shepard! Nyxeris, hold my calls.” The assistant nodded, hurried out the door, and closed it behind her. The holo disappeared and Liara engulfed Shepard in a hug.

“How are you, Liara?” Charlie asked.

“Managing,” she said, going back to her desk, sitting, folding her hands. She gestured at the chairs for us to do the same. “I should ask how you are. You were declared dead. And now you’re back…working with Cerberus and gunning for the Collectors.”

“That’s not exactly public knowledge,” Charlie said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Nor is the shipping report up on that terminal,” I said, gesturing at it. Liara hurriedly shut it off. “Your friend’s an information broker, Charles.” I crossed my arms, smirking. “Takes one to know one.”

Liara gave me, and then Kasumi, a somewhat nervous look. “So,” she said, “What brings you to Nos Astra? I am happy to see you. But you must be after something here.”

“Two things,” said Charlie, tossing out two files. “Two dossiers. Two people. The first one I’m looking for is an asari warrior named Samara.”

“A justicar.” Liara’s rather large blue eyes gleamed as she looked over the information. “Yes. She checked in about a week ago. The police probably have more information.”

Charlie nodded. “The second one- a drell assassin; last reported to be here by Cerberus spies.” That set something pinging in my gut, and I sat up a little, looking sideways to Charlie and then squinting at the file to try and catch a look. “His name’s Thane Krios.”

Something clicked. Audibly.

“Thane Krios,” I repeated, “It all makes sense now. I knew you had to be bringing me for some reason.” When Charlie looked to me, bewildered, I crossed my legs, folding my arms similarly. “It’s because I know him. Trained under him, for God’s sakes. I mean, damn, he was the one who taught me how to make battle an art, not just a bunch of slugs flying and messy biotic strikes. You have no idea what you’re up against.” I half-laughed. “ _That’s_ why I’m here.”

Charlie sighed. “I never get to surprise you with anything.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe if you went about it different; you know how craptastically you and I get along, running a mission.”

She shook her head minutely.

“So, we’re after Thane?” I moved along, shifting in my seat. “Good you brought me, then. It takes one to know one, like I said, and he taught me just about everything I know.”

“Really?” she was looking at me now, drily.

I shrugged, in my long leather coat, gesturing, “Where do you think I got my impeccable sense of style? He takes ‘em down clean, even if he does have that weird praying habit…” I trailed off. “Whatever. It’ll be good to see the man again. Er, drell. Anyway, Blue, sound off- where’s he gotten to?”

Liara gave me a searching look (presumably at my use of “Blue”), but she searched her terminal nonetheless. “It says here that he arrived nearly two years ago- it looks as if Nassana Dantius might be his target. I know she’s recently laid off her head of security- Seryna is working at the cargo transfer levels now.”

“Nassana?” we looked to Charlie, who was shaking her head. “I met her two years ago, on the Citadel. She was serving there as an ambassador, and she tricked me into hunting down her sister.”

“So you just know everyone who we run into, is that it?” I threw my hands up in the air. “Well, hell, except for Thane Krios. But that’s what I’m here for. We have what we need, then?”

“We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.” Charlie rose, looking again to Liara. “Thanks, Liara. Maybe I can come by later, and we can catch up a bit.”

“Of course, Shepard.” She nodded, and the door opened to see us out.

As we made our exit, and we moved out of the earshot of Nyxeris, Charlie put a hand on my elbow to stop me. “What do you know about Thane?” she asked. “I only know what the Illusive Man told me, and that was that you had only ever been to one planet in your life, and that was Kahje. You were trained by the drell and the hanar, and there was a distinct possibility he was involved.” She took a step back.

I crossed my arms. “Then you know what I told you- he trained me; most of my close-range combat and sniping is owed to him. It’s pretty impressive- not that you’ve seen any of it.” Charlie sighed, at the minute reminder of the disaster on Korlus, and then held my eyes again with some difficulty. Blue to blue. “He taught me no less than ninety-three ways to kill a man with my bare hands, butt of a gun, common office-household appliances, what have you. He taught me to move silent as a shadow; and quick-kill you with a good biotic punch- you’d be dead before you ever realized anything was wrong.” I faced her down, unflinching. “He taught me composure in the face of clear and present danger. Essentially, I can bluff my way out of anything. I can recognize the physical signs of lying, even in myself, and mask them. I can even slow down my heart rate, brain waves, body temperature, and fool the most sensitive of scanners into declaring me dead.” I stepped in close, mouth next to her ear. “And I’m just the student. He’s the master. This has been his entire life. He has trained for this since he was six years old. He’s the best damn assassin in the galaxy. My advice? You won’t even know what hit you.”

I took a step back. Charlie looked ashen, and I simply crossed my arms, leaned back against the wall. “It’s your call. But if you were looking for a reason to not bring me on this mission, you’re going to have an easier time bringing down a thresher maw on foot.”

Kasumi shifted on her feet. “Even I’ve never seen Thane Krios.”

There was a brief silence. Then, Charlie took a deep breath and straightened up. “We’re going after him; I don’t care how hard it is. It’s a testament to how much we need his skills that it’ll be this hard to track him down. Glenn, you’ll come with- but you’re following my orders, you understand?”

“Within reason. If you start trying to get us killed again, you better believe you’re gonna have a mutiny on your hands.” I crossed my arms, met her glare defiantly. _Submit,_ she said.

 _What do I owe you?_ I replied.

Charlie nodded once, curtly, and looked to Kasumi. “Kasumi, are you good to come with?”

Kasumi nodded once. “I’m ready, Shep.”

Charlie’s arms unfolded, and she rolled her shoulders, armor clicking with her. “Then let’s get moving to the cargo port.”

The cargo port was a quick walk; especially with me reminiscing. It had been a long time since I’d really thought about my training on Kahje- undoubtedly, the most grueling few weeks of my life. It had honed me, physically, mentally, spiritually; into a precise instrument of death. Of course, the training had been good for other aspects of life; from covert break-ins to a soothing meditation at the end of a particularly hard stretch. Good to refocus, every once in a while. As we made our way to this Seryna, I started recalling his voice like he was speaking to me again; pushing me to limits I didn’t know I had, urging me on even when I was aching everywhere and drenched in sweat. _Silent as shadow. The best kills are the ones that occur without your target even knowing. Do not pity the dead, but pity the kills on your own conscience. The man who fears dying is already dead._ Solipsism, I recalled, with a brief tick of the mouth- wondering without particular seriousness if the drell’s’ perfect memory had rubbed off on me.

Seryna was sitting at a desk by a cab stand, working intently off a terminal. She looked up to our approach, somewhat sourly. “What?”

“You’re Seryna?”

Seryna looked at us, then at her companion. “Tana, cover me.” she rose from her desk, led us out to the vista, and crossed her arms. “Yeah, it’s me. What are you after?”

I waved Charlie off, stepping forward and folding my arms likewise. “We’re looking for a drell named Thane Krios. The word here is that he’s after Nassana Dantius.”

Seryna looked around. So she _did_ know something. “Yeah, I might have passed along some information. I didn’t hire him, though.” She leaned in closer. “She kills her competition. _Has_ them killed, anyway, not that she’d ever dream of getting her own hands dirty. Threatens people. Even had her own sister taken out.”

“I know a thing or two about that,” Charlie commented.

“I confronted her over it, and she fired me. Now I’m working here. So what if I told Thane how to get to her? She deserves what’s coming to her.” She crossed her arms even tighter. “Why do you want him? Are you trying to stop him?”

I held up a hand. “Just need to make sure he stays alive.” I leaned on the edge of the vista. “We’re recruiting him for a mission. We need to find him. If you told him how to get in…how would we go in after him?”

Seryna looked out, over the vista. “I can get you in,” she said, after a moment. “Nassana will be in the penthouse of tower one. Tower two is still under construction. I can fly you in there, but you’ll have to take it from there.”

Charlie nodded slowly, to herself. She glanced out over the setting sun, the glowing city, and said, “As soon as possible.”

Conversation to the towers was carried by Charlie and Seryna, and I sat in the back of the skycar with Kasumi and meditated very quietly; a biotic sphere maintained between my fingers. After a few minutes I could feel my hair standing on end, and after yet another long pause, I realized no one was talking. When I opened my eyes, reluctantly breaking my concentration, everyone was looking at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Odd.” Charlie explained, then stopped to rub at the back of her neck. “I mean…this is a side of you I haven’t seen.”

“I have a lot of sides, Charles,” I said, as the car touched down. “Most of them you’ve written off as cold and unfeeling. Let’s get up this tower.”

The first thing we saw inside were a few LOKI mechs, chasing down salarian workers- one of them collapsed in an explosion of green blood, and another vanished from our sight line. I shattered the glass, turned my fire onto the mechs and took them all out cleanly in the head and in the “heart”, listening for the glitchy chorus of “ _system fai-ai-ai-ail-ure_ ” and subsequent explosion. “Puny god,” I muttered, referencing something I was ninety-nine percent sure would fly right over the others’ heads.

We found the last salarian worker in the right wing, wheezing frantically as he saw us approaching. “Please…I can’t breathe…my chest…killing me…” I knelt, pulling up my omni-tool and readying a medi-gel application. “Calm down,” I said, “Tell me what happened.”

“The mercs,” he wheezed, “Eclipse. Didn’t explain. They just…came in…started shouting…said Nassana needed us…out of the way…” his wheezing grew louder, thinner, more frantic.

“Calm down,” I said, willing the program to load faster. “Calm down. Nassana needed you out of the way. Keep talking. Eyes on me.”

“We didn’t…understand, and they…started…shouting more…just…started shooting,” his hand scrabbled for me. “Please…can’t…my chest…”

“There,” I said, the application finally readying. “That should help. Keep you alive until help arrives.” He began to breathe easier, calmed down somewhat, and then focused on me. “Thank you. I’m…I’m feeling better.” He paused, regaining his bearings and his breath. “The other workers,” he said, finally. “Please. Help them if you can.”

“We will,” I said, helping him up. “Until then, you should get out of here.”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, that’s…a good idea.” He began to walk out, stiffly at first, but then more easily. “Thank you.”

I nodded once, and watched him limp out until I was satisfied he would make it. When I turned back, Charlie was looking quizzically at me. I dropped the omni-tool interface; shrugged. “Life brings us…different things, I suppose. Thane taught me how to take life. Mordin’s teaching me how to preserve it. Neither of them are wrong. It just…is.”

“You know how to do a lot of things,” Charlie said, following me to the elevator.

“Yeah.” I shrugged again. “I used to be apologetic about that; like it was my fault. Sorry I can speak most alien dialects; kill a man with anything from a sensor pen to a blender, treat most ailments, interrogate with a high success rate, hack anything, bypass anything, salvage anything, infiltrate anything, deduce from the smallest and most coincidental bits of evidence.” I folded my arms as the doors closed and the elevator headed up. “Tell a damn good story,” I added, after a pause. “Sorry about all that. I know it’s all my fault that I’m so fucking good at everything I do and anything I choose to be.”

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at me. “One could argue you’re lacking in humility.”

“ _Most_ will argue I’m lacking in flaws like so,” I replied, scowling ahead, premature grooves in my face deepening. “Apparently I’m too perfect. So what? Is it so bad to be good at everything? Is it so bad to like yourself? It’s a damned double standard, this whole galaxy. Our species worst of all. Love yourself, but not so much that you actually start to believe it.” I shook my head. “Even worse for women. Maybe we’re allowed to be good at something. Maybe even a few things. But we’d damn well never take any pride in it- that’s for the husbands we’re all supposed to have. You ever realized that when you get praised it’s always ‘girl’? ‘That’s my girl,’ ‘good girl’; and then as soon as you fuck something up you’re a grown woman? You get to have responsibility? ‘As a woman you should,’ ‘women aren’t supposed to act like this,’ ‘holy Saint Anne, women aren’t supposed to curse or wear pants or have tattoos or have the sex they want or drink or fight or be loud or be heard at all. Off to the convent for you.’” I paused for a breath, realizing that my entire form was threatening to lift biotically off the ground.

“Case in point,” I said, softer, eyeing the ground, “People have told me my whole life who I’m supposed to be. For a long time, I believed them. Then I woke up, said fuck them and started living life the way _I_ damn well want to. It’s not more fun. It’s like I traded in one set of issues for another. Or maybe I’m just ignoring the same ones from before. I don’t know. Life still sucks krogan ass, but at least I’m my own person now.” I scowled.

The elevator opened before us. “Come on; let’s go fuck some Eclipse up. I hate these little bastards.”

The next few waves of mercs were easy: shoot ‘em down, throw ‘em like dolls, fry their shields and make their guns explode. Pretty routine, as my days went now. We found another group of workers trapped behind a locked door, claiming a shadowy figure had locked them inside. That was classic Thane, I explained to my companions; always looking out for the innocent. Meanwhile, fucking up the morally ambiguous, all the while being a classy motherfucker. Come to think of it, he really needed a pair of shades. Yes. File that away into the good ideas page, along with _feed mayonnaise to tuna._ The last salarian worker out said to me, “If you see the assassin- tell him to aim for Nassana’s head. ‘Cause she doesn’t have a heart!”

The elevator up to the third level was summoned once they had made their escape, and Charlie voiced my mind when she said, “Who wants to bet that elevator’s not going to be empty when it comes down?” we took shelter behind scaffolding and crates- the doors opened to reveal a krogan warrior, an asari vanguard, and a human engineer.

The engineer went for Kasumi, the krogan for Charlie, which left the asari to me. Except, she never even saw me. I didn’t wait for her to charge; I did it myself, ran up on swift feet like shadows and dove- she had her hand out, halfway to a pull that I halted grabbing that wrist, pushing my feet off the ground and moving with the momentum to lash my thighs around her neck in a vice grip, taking her to the ground and snapping her spinal cord with a quick twist of the legs. I got up and dusted myself off, noticed my companions staring.

“Thighs don’t lie,” I said, shrugging.

“Teach me your ways,” said Kasumi. We took the elevator, at last, to the third floor, where we heard Nassana barking over an intercom to throw men at the problem until it resolved itself. Classic Pickett’s Charge mistake. They all died. Spectacularly. Then, _and_ now. The last workers were found in another locked room- the first salarian aimed a gun straight between my eyes and stuttered out, “D-don’t move! I’ll shoot!”

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” I said, putting my hands up. “We’re not mercs. We’re on your side.” The salarian shook in his britches, but he handed the gun slowly to me. “O-okay. H-here…” then he fainted dead away.

“Telon!” I pointed the gun, but the second salarian put his hands up, regardless, not stopping as he knelt by the first- Telon. “He’s my brother. We just…the mercs told us to get in here- he pulled his gun, we thought he was going to shoot, but his head just…exploded.”

Charlie and I shared the look that already meant _Thane._ Telon’s brother helped him up.

“Get out of here,” I said. “We’ve cleared the lower levels out for you.”

“Chesith?” said Telon. “Are we- can we go now?”

“Yes, Telon, let’s go.” The two brothers and a third salarian made their way out. “Thank you,” said Chesith, and they began again on their way.

As we started off again, now bound for the maintenance bridge across to the first tower, I caught wind of a voice. “No, I haven’t heard from teams four or six. Getting reports of the assassin on all levels- he might be using the ducts.”

 _No shit,_ I figured, _who would ever use the ducts?_ No wonder the woman was paranoid; she must’ve managed the most dumbfuck security in the galaxy. “We’ll get them,” the man assured, and switched off his earpiece. Then the muzzle of my gun was in the small of his back. “Turn around, very slowly.”

He did so. There was an emphatic sigh, from inside his recon hood, and a heartfelt: “Shit.”

I stepped closer, forcing him towards the wall-to-wall glass window. “I’m looking for someone. An assassin. Thane Krios.”

The man held his ground. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

I walked him closer to the window. “I’ll ask you again, and I’ll say it slowly.” I stopped, with his back almost flush with the glass. “Where. Is. The assassin?”

“I’ve got nothing more to say to you,” he sneered, visibly, from beneath the hood. “My men are just around the corner. If you shoot they’ll- _AAAAAAAHHHHHHH_ -” his rather girlish shriek faded as he tumbled towards the streets below. I bent over the windy vista to watch him go. “How ‘bout goodbye?” I quipped.

When I stepped back, Charlie was (predictably) giving me the Paragon-of-Virtue face. I just shrugged. “What? He was clearly armed, and I didn’t shoot him. That was my mercy.”

“I’d hate to see your vengeance.” The retort was sharp, angry, and _oh,_ titillating.

“We’d need a bit more leather,” I said, “Maybe a riding crop. Or, we could just agree to disagree and move along? Yeah, s’what I thought. Your cheekbones, I could cut myself slapping that face.”

“Are you really into that?” Kasumi questioned, as we crossed the bridge, and ran into turrets and commandos, of all things.

“Been on the receiving end before, content to keep it that way. Why, you?”

“Once or twice.” She giggled.

“Darling, you’ll have to tell me more. We should make this a thing. _Normandy_ girls’ club. What do you think, Skipper, sign off? Sound off? Damn it, I can never keep those straight.”

“Later, you two.”

“Right, Shep.”

Finally, we arrived into the penthouse. There was one asari in a dress- Nassana- and a bunch of Eclipse with her.

“Shepard,” she said, when we entered. “But you’re _dead_.”

“I got better,” said Charlie.

Nassana shook her head, chuckling psychotically (psychotically, because it reminded me of Jack laughing, which she only really did when things were getting exploded. Or burned. Same principle.) “And now you’re here to kill me. You must think this all very ironic. You take care of my sister. Now you’re here for me.”

“You really are paranoid,” Charlie said, muse-like.

“Don’t patronize me, Shepard,” snapped Nassana.

“Charming as ever.”

Nassana turned back to us, glared. “You think I’m bad; just look at you. We’re not so different; we both kill people for money.”

“ _You_ kill people because you think they’re beneath you,” Charlie corrected, “When I kill people, I have a damn good reason.”

“What do you want?” Nassana demanded. “Is it credits? Whoever hired you; I’ll double their offer. Triple it. Name your price, we can all walk away and forget it ever happened-”

“Yeah, crazy cat lady, wasn’t us. We get you can do bad all by yourself- meanwhile, collecting cats- er, mercs, in your paranoia…” I gestured around, with a wavering finger. “But you’ll get what’s coming to you in your own time.”

“Not all of the credits in the world are going to fix this problem,” Charlie punctuated.

“Who the hell gave you the right to play god?” she snarled at us. One of the commandos next to her gave a start, and she turned with an angry glare to her. “ _What_? What is it?”

“I heard something.” The vents rattled, and my eyes flicked up, tracking the echoes of moment. I looked to Charlie. _Thane._ Another rattle. I listened closely. _And not far._

“Check the other entrances,” Nassana ordered, “Go!” the Eclipse obeyed, and I lifted a finger to tell them perhaps not the best idea.

Before I could push a single choppy human English syllable out of my throat; a green-and-black blur dropped out of the vent ducts, twisted one guard’s head straight around, punched a second one in the neck, shot the third, and had Nassana herself about the middle in a moment. “You-” she gasped, and then the pistol pressed into her gut fired. The perpetrator laid her across her console, folded her arms. Her last choked sounds of shock died away in a gurgle of violet blood, and Thane Krios; backlit by the setting sun, settled down to pray.

A long silence passed- Charlie spoke. “Are you Thane Krios?”

I gave her the face of _no shit._

It was another moment before he spoke; not bothering to open his eyes or look our way yet. “I apologize. Prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken.”

Charlie eyed the corpse of Nassana with something nearing distaste. “You’re wasting your breath.”

Now he looked up. “Not for her,” he said, at last, “For me.” He put his pistol away, stepped out from behind the desk. “The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern by actions alone.” His voice was the same raspy…well, rasp, that I recalled. Same leather coat, same fish lips and little black scales peppering him like freckles amid the green. “Take you, for instance,” he gestured to Charlie, “All this destruction, chaos.”

Charlie scowled, like it gave her indigestion at the reminder of the casualties of war. Thane continued, “I was curious to see how far you would go to find me.” he stopped before us, eyes narrowing. “Well. Here I am.”

Charlie hesitated, rolling the words visibly on her tongue before asking, “How did you know I was coming at all?”

 _I just told you,_ my own words echoed in my head as Thane said, aloud, “I didn’t; not until you marched in the front door and started shooting.” He folded his hands behind his back; straightened up, I caught Kasumi eyeballing the snug fit of his leather pants. “Nassana had become paranoid. You saw the strength of her guard force. She believed one of her sisters would kill her.” He paused. “You, were a valuable distraction.”

“You used me,” said Charlie, sharply. “So you could kill her.”

“I needed a diversion,” Thane replied, “You needed to speak with me.” I straightened up, put away my gun, and Kasumi did the same. Thane turned back to Charlie. “You certainly fulfilled your end of the bargain. What would you like to discuss?”

Charlie frowned at him a few more moments before she spoke. “Someone’s been abducting entire human colonies. We’re going to stop them.” Thane began to pace, and she followed his back. “We already know the culprits; a race called the Collectors.”

Thane stopped, with his face to the sunset. “I’ve heard of them.” He turned back to us. “Attacking the Collectors would require passing through the Omega-4 Relay. No ship has ever returned from doing so.”

“They told me it was impossible to get to Ilos, too,” Charlie replied, crossing her arms. “A fair point,” Thane conceded, with the hint of a smile. “You’ve built a career on performing the impossible.” Charlie joined him by the desk; he bowed his head just slightly and closed his eyes.

“This was to be my last job,” he shared, his head turning slightly to the side for our benefit. A pause. “I’m dying.”

A sharp gasp escaped me, of its own volition. Already, I knew what he was talking about, and it was like a punch to the gut. Unbidden, he went on. “Low survival odds don’t concern me. The abduction of your colonists does.”

“I hadn’t heard that before,” Charlie said, not sharing the same knowledge as I, the same memories, the same sudden trauma overwhelming me. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Giving me this opportunity is enough.” He looked to her. “The universe is a dark place. I’m trying to make it brighter before I die.” At last, he turned to Charlie, face-to-face. “Many innocents died today. I wasn’t fast enough, and they suffered. I must atone for that.” He paused, then held out a hand, which Charlie shook almost immediately. “I will work for you, Shepard. No charge.” Once she had released the hand, he stood straight again, hands behind his back, and only then did he take a look at his company.

I started forward. “Thane,” I said, but hesitated when he faced me and frowned, like he didn’t remember. Then, something seemed to stir him, and he reached out with one hand, middle joints fused together- “I know your face.”

I took the hand, like I had a thousand times before, running my thumb quizzically up the middle phalange out of perfunctory curiosity, marveling at evolution, _why this way?_ Slowly, his mouth pulled at the corners, then I saw it lock in. “Gangly, long, she struggles to do the stretches assigned to her. The young boy with scabby knees comes, pushes gently on her back. She achieves the position. They both smile.” The memory faded, and he shook his head, blinked rapidly at me. Suddenly a bit overcome, I nodded, tears threatening at my eyes. “I remember,” I whispered.

We hugged- tightly, and slowly I stepped back, keeping his forearms and then hugging my own.

“I didn’t recognize you at first,” he said.

“It’s been a while,” I said, mouth ticking at the corner. “Ten years, something like that?” he nodded, all avoiding the elephant in the room, the impending death I could put a name to.

“Then you are also on this mission?” he questioned. I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it wasn’t too tough a call. Either stay on Omega and rot in an alley somewhere before the age of thirty; or go on this- either die spectacularly, or become some kind of galactic hero. And then, maybe…I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far ahead. Still on the dying.”

Thane nodded at me. “It is good to see you again. To know a face in these coming days will be comforting.” Charlie was watching us, an odd look on her face. Regarding me with something almost like…I didn’t know. Something with tight lips, furrowed brows, and crossed arms. A brief silence.

“Should we get back, then?” asked Charlie, finally, and we both nodded, following her and Kasumi back out the way we Omaha had come.


	11. Ancient Codes, Orders, and Laws (Overall it seems like Far Too Many Rules)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers! I'm here with the first new content for the extended version of "A Matter of Trust"! Our first new bit encompasses Illium: The Justicar and Dossier: Samara; as well as setting up for our next new chapter, which should be coming soon. Enjoy! And of course, it belongs to Bioware.

We remained at the docks overnight, and the next morning saw Charlie leaving the airlock with Thane, Garrus, and I at her side. “We’re looking for Samara, now. I read up on asari justicars last night cycle, and if the writing’s anything to go by, we’re gonna be up against a lot.”

“Yeah,” I remarked. “Did you find the part where the justicars just _randomly dispense judgment on people they don’t like the look of_? So you bring the assassin, the vigilante, and the info broker to meet her.”

“It is good to see your rebellious streak is intact,” said Thane, and I looked at him sideways only to find him smiling slightly.

“You’re under my command,” she said, giving me a firm look, _aren’t you?_ I rolled my eyes as she continued. “So you should be fine.”

“Right, I forgot, you’re our illustrious leader,” I groused, as we made our way to the travel agency. “Hero of Elysium. Commander Shepard of the Blitz, savior of the Citadel, first human Spectre- she’ll eat you up.”

When we arrived, there was one asari whose name tag read “ _Hello, my name is: Dara_!” Didn’t know why the exclamation point was there, but what is is.

“Hello,” she said, as we entered. “May I help you?”

“We’re looking for a justicar named Samara,” said Charlie.

Instantly Dara’s cheery travel agent front dropped. “Oh no. Did she kill someone already?”

“ _Kill_ someone?” asked Garrus.

“ _Already_?” I said.

“Justicars usually don’t even leave asari space,” Dara groaned. “Oh, no, the Bureau was already worried about…about cross-species incidents and-”

“Hey, hold up, no one’s dead,” I held up a hand, as she flitted nervously about the office. “That I know of,” I amended. “We’re just looking for her.”

Dara froze. Then, she sighed, rubbing her crest in relief. “Oh. Oh, all right. Yes. Well…when she checked in…she headed for the shipping docks. You can take a cab not far from here.”

“Much appreciated,” Charlie said, and we made our way out to the taxi stand.

“Killing people?” Garrus questioned, again.

“Yeah,” I said, flatly. “Remember what I said back at the docks? Well, when the justicars judge, they do it in a summary court.”

Garrus sighed. “Brilliant. I’ve got to back it up, now, Shepard, and say what she said.” He pointed at me. “A vigilante, an assassin, and an information broker from Omega? Are you trying to trim the ranks?”

“You know I wouldn’t,” Charlie said, smiling drily at him. “For one, I’d be killing off half of my snipers. And two, I looked into it. Everything on your consciences is on me, since I’m your commander.”

“So she’ll just kill you instead,” I deadpanned. “And then the Reapers win.”

“You’re so negative,” Charlie sighed at me, waving us over to the taxi stand.

Garrus informed Thane, “This isn’t normal. Usually the commander is the stick in the mud.” He paused, almost awkwardly. “No offense meant, Shepard. You keep us all together.”

“I’m just excited about another ‘paragon of virtue’,” she huffed. “It’s been all criminals and questionable moralities up to now.”

“I’m hurt,” Garrus sighed, as the cab came careening around the corner.

“Noted,” said Charlie, again, the first to slide in and claim the driver’s seat.

We reached the transport depot, sun setting on that particular horizon as we landed and disembarked, as per usual, to a scene being made.

An asari police officer followed after a volus, tottering along with two krogan mercs guarding his flanks. “Where do you think you’re going, Pitne For?” she called after him, halting and folding her arms.

The volus, Pitne For, turned and regarded her, sucking in the noisy breaths characteristic of the volus exo-suit. “Taking my goods and leaving the planet. I don’t want to end up like my partner…”

“Don’t forget Dakni Kur was _your_ partner,” the officer scowled. “You’re a suspect in this too, Pitne. You’re not leaving this district until I say so.” With that she left, turning into the agency just across the courtyard. “I won’t be kept here for that justicar to go crazy and start shooting!” the volus called after her retreating back, to which the officer waved a disregarding hand.

“That sounds like our in,” Garrus said, and Charlie nodded. “Come on.”

We followed her across the courtyard- the volus looked at us as we passed (and who could blame him; a drell in a leather coat, a human in a leather drell coat, a turian wearing armor with a huge hole in the side, and a woman shorter than all three of them in bulky N7 armor? We were the definition of a traveling circus.) We entered the agency, where the officer was sitting at her desk, tossing files around, frowning.

“Are you in charge here?” Charlie asked.

The officer looked up, regarded us all much the same as Pitne For had. “Detective Anaya,” she replied. “Make this quick, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Charlie folded her arms. “All right.”

“How can I help you?”

“We’re after the justicar,” she said. “The travel agency pointed us in this direction.”

“The justicar?” Anaya’s brows went up, and she sighed, tapping on the desk with her tablet pen. “Yeah. She’s here on the crime scene. Investigating the murder of that volus’ business partner. There’s Eclipse everywhere and she’s running around behind the police line.” The detective rose, and leaned heavily on the sill. “My superiors want her detained. Unfortunately, that would probably end up killing me.”

Charlie frowned. “Your superiors are sending you to certain death for no good reason. You have a right to disobey.”

“We’re allowed to disobey suicidal orders?” Garrus’ brows perked up, and he looked to me. “Why wasn’t I told?”

“That’s at least twice a day,” I informed Thane.

“When I tell you to, at least I have a good reason,” Charlie cut in, shortly. “There has to be another way.” She turned back to Anaya. “Let us go talk to her.”

Anaya gave us the once-over. “Fine,” she sighed. “You look like you can handle yourselves. I’ll send word for them to let you in.”

Charlie nodded, and motioned for us to follow her out.

“Good luck,” Anaya called after us.

As we walked past the police line, two officers guarding it nodded to us as we passed. “Be careful back there. These back alleys are crawling with Eclipse.”

Quietly, we turned the corner, popping our guns out with the characteristic soft unfolding hiss. “You can’t be fooled by the appearances of places like this,” Garrus muttered. “They may _look_ safer, but strike a deal with the wrong group, walk down the wrong street, and you’re no better off than you were on Omega.”

“Illium’s got perfume,” I replied, softly, cocking my pistol and shifting along cover, towards an asari’s voice. “ _Squad Four’s gone dark; arm up and get ready to go in._ ”

Quietly, I extended my arm, lined up the shot, and fired.

The Eclipse sister went down first, followed by the pack of initiates standing by her, courtesy of Garrus and Thane. An electronic overload from my omni-tool dispatched the rest of them.

“You have remembered your lessons well,” Thane remarked, as I stood. “I barely heard your breathing.”

“What you taught me has kept me alive as long as it did,” I replied, standing up and popping the heat sink. “I can’t count how many times I’ve gotten out on something you said.”

Thane’s smile was as bright as binary blue supergiants in supernova. I caught Charlie gazing at him curiously, brow wrinkled a little in the middle, rifle sitting awkwardly loosely across her front. Thane left his hand on my shoulder a moment, before Garrus cleared his throat and pressed forward to the door. “Maybe we’ll find-”

As he opened it, an Eclipse merc flew straight across his line of sight (I didn’t think I’d ever seen a turian’s head go so far back into his cowl), and our eyes flew up, searching for the source. “There,” Thane murmured, jerking his head up at a higher catwalk, where two shadowy figures paced.

“Those were some of my best troops,” an asari in an Eclipse uniform ground out.

Opposite her, a tall, graceful asari in a sleek red suit of armor paced to meet her, glowing with biotics, presumably from the recent throw. “You are withholding information from me. Give me the name of the ship that she left on, and I will be gone from this place.” Her voice was timeless, ancient, and yet, ageless. Something old and primal stirred in me, just hearing it.

“You think I’m afraid of _you_?” the Eclipse sister shook her head rapidly. “Do you know what she’d _do_ to me?”

The other asari didn’t answer, just stalked closer. The Eclipse sister raised her shotgun, but the asari threw her effortlessly from the platform, and down to the floor. Then, the mysterious opponent glowed blue once more, floating down to the lower level and landing gracefully on her feet, striding to the downed Eclipse merc, pinning her to the ground as she tried to scramble away with a boot on her neck. “The name, Lieutenant,” she said, low, and even. “Your life hangs on your answer.”

“Go…to hell,” the Eclipse asari ground out, trying to pry the boot from her throat.

The asari in the red watched her struggle for a moment, and then closed her eyes. “Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess,” she intoned, and quick-jerked her leg into her side, breaking her opponent’s neck. As the kill was made, she stepped back, looked to us, and slowly crossed the room. Charlie motioned for us to put our weapons up.

“My quarrel is with these Eclipse sisters,” she said, gesturing about to where the bodies lay on the floor. “But I see four well-armed people before me.” she halted before Charlie, and looked each of us over in turn with exquisite blue eyes. “Are you friend,” she asked, in that enchanting voice, “Or are you foe?”

Charlie lifted her jaw level. “A friend,” she said. “My name is Commander Shepard. I’ve come a long way to find you, Samara.”

“Indeed.” Samara surveyed Charlie, eyes narrowed slightly. Up close, she was almost ethereal, even for an asari, possessing a face one would expect to see in an old ruin dedicated to Athame, or some such religious text. On her brow rode a red headpiece to match her armor, one that I hadn’t seen before- I wondered if it held some sort of special significance. “I have heard of many of your deeds, Shepard. You have a reputation of one…honorable.”

I blew a quick sigh. “Ah, great. If honor’s your defining trait, don’t look at me when your head’s rolling down the Sept of Baelor.”

Samara looked to me. “Glenn of Omega,” Charlie provided.

Samara’s eyes narrowed.

“Glenn is under my command,” Charlie added, hurriedly. I glared right back at Samara.

“I see.” Samara looked away from me.

“Got something against Omegas?” I questioned.

“They are a…disreputable sort,” she said.

“Right, nice stereotyping,” I puffed, wounded.

“We’ve been looking for you, for our mission,” Charlie spoke over me (no foul, I was used to people talking over me), “You’ve heard of the Collectors?”

“They are taking human colonies, are they not?” Samara remained at her mystic impasse. “The Collectors would be a worthy opponent. I would relish the chance to test my strength against them. But I have my own mission.” She gestured at the disposed Eclipse sisters.

“I really wish you would go with the human,” came a voice from behind us, and we turned to allow Anaya in. “My superiors have ordered me to detain you.”

“You would be foolish to try, Detective,” replied Samara. “I must find the name of the ship that carried the fugitive offworld. Otherwise, she will disappear another hundred years.”

I put a hand up. “Wait just a second.” Everyone turned to look at me. “Maybe we can make a deal here. If _we_ go and find the name of the ship…Samara can leave, and it all works out for everyone?”

Samara blinked. The detective, her, and Charlie all exchanged looks. “Do this, and the Code will be satisfied,” the justicar ruled.

“And you’ll come with me for now?” Anaya posed.

“My code allows me to comply for one day,” she says. “After that, I must continue my investigation.”

“We’ll track down the ship,” Charlie assured her.

Samara nodded. “Then I will submit, Detective, for now. Accomplish this, Shepard, and I will join you.” With those words, the justicar nodded, and departed with Anaya.

The squad, meanwhile, gathered into a circle. “If it was Eclipse who smuggled the asari offworld- I’m guessing it was an asari, judging by the whole ‘disappear another hundred years’ bit- then we might just need to crack their hideout.”

“I recall that an Eclipse outpost was stationed nearby,” Thane spoke. “The question lies in the entry.”

“The volus back out there,” Garrus spoke. “Didn’t the detective say something about his business partner being murdered? He might have more information for us.”

“You can leave that to me,” I said, grimly. “Among us four I’m solidly the extortionist. I’ll see what I can get off Pitne For.”

With that, we broke, and headed back out to the depot. I nodded to the others, and left them in the shadow of the police station, striding out into the bright light of the setting star.

The volus turned as I approached, took a deep breath and began to address me: “Greetings, Earth-clan. May I-”

“I need a bit of information.” I cut him off, folding my arms and looking down from where I stood. “It’s about your partner. The murdered one.”

The volus regarded me a moment- one noisy breath preceded his reply. “I didn’t kill Dakni! Even the justicar knows. It had to have been the Eclipse!”

“Mercenaries don’t kill without reason,” I deadpanned.

“I’m not telling you anything!” the volus retorted, indignant, and his two krogan bodyguards came closer. Quick as a flash, I drew my pistol, aiming it across the three, and I saw as they shrank back they had their eyes trained near the police station. Garrus and Thane had both pulled rifles, and had scopes trained on the both of them.

I lowered the gun towards the volus.

“Oh dear,” he intoned. “Please…please put that away. I’ll cooperate. I swear.”

I slid the sidearm back into its holster. “All right, then. What’s going on here? What would have gotten the Eclipse after your partner?”

Pitne For paused. I arched an eyebrow, and he began to speak hurriedly. “Well…I brought a shipment in for the Eclipse. Minagen X3. It enhances biotics.” The volus paused. “I…may have forgotten to mention that it’s also toxic.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, good grief.”

“They were not very happy about that,” the volus added.

“Oh, _really_ , never would’ve guessed,” I sighed. “Look, did you get into the Eclipse hideout? You had to have been in there at least once.”

“I had a key,” the volus admitted. “They…took it from me, but I had a copy made.”

I cracked my knuckles.

“Take it,” the volus said, hurriedly handing it off. “Is that it? Am I free to go?”

“For now,” I said, and turned around to return to the squad.

“Did you get anything?” Charlie asked me.

“One key into the Eclipse hideout,” I said, jerking my head back at the volus. “Pitne For’s a smuggler, surprise surprise. At any rate, we’d better get in there before the trail goes cold.”

“Agreed,” said Charlie, and we walked together towards the elevator. As Garrus and Thane walked in, Charlie stopped me, seemed to struggle for a moment, and finally told me, “Good going.” Before I could reply, she was in the lift as well, and I followed her and the rest.

The first thing we met inside were a legion of Eclipse- once they had fallen, it was mostly quiet. Clouds of the Minagen were floating about in the air, which I scattered with a wave of my hand. I caught, suddenly, the sound of heavy breath in the adjoining room. Waving a hand to shush the others, I crept slowly in. The sound of the breathing grew heavier, and louder. Slowly, I aimed my gun, and just as it clicked, an asari in an Eclipse uniform popped out from behind the terminal. “Wait!” she put her hands up. “I didn’t fire my weapon once! I only pretended to fire because the other Eclipse sisters were watching, but I didn’t actually shoot!” she shook her head. “I’m not one of them, I’m knew! I thought being Elnora the mercenary would be cool, but…I didn’t know what they were really like!” She was good enough to pull her gun quickly, but not good enough to beat me to it, and drawing on me was all I needed.

“You chose your side, Elnora,” I said, “And you lost.”

“Screw _that_ , bitch!” she snapped, firing. But her cartridge was empty, and she fell to my fire. Charlie, of course, had the conflicted look when I turned back.

“Before you say anything,” I addressed the commander, “Every one of these girls commits a murder to earn her uniform. There’s no doubt that she deserved it.”

“Did she really?” asked Charlie. “Violence begets violence.”

I gestured to the uniform. “Yeah. And seeing as she did it first, I’m the one doing the begetting.”

We continued on our way, off into the hallways- our progress, though, was halted by the sudden appearance of a volus.

“Ah…” I began.

The volus turned around, staggered towards us, and did a face plant straight into Charlie’s crotch. He stepped back, dizzily, and raised his hand to us: “I am a biotic god!”

“Oh, Christ,” I muttered, dragging a hand over my face.

“I think things…and they _happen._ ” He glowed briefly with eezo. “Fear me!”

“I don’t know what kind of drugs he’s on,” I muttered, “So long as he doesn’t touch me.” Garrus shook his head, and Thane looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Yes,” the volus admitted, “The asari injecting so many drugs into me was terrifying…but then I began to smell my greatness.” He turned to the door. “I shall toss Wasea about like a rag doll. Feasting on her biotic rich blood will be the final step in my ascent to godhood!”

“Shepard, this guy couldn’t tie his bootlaces,” Garrus broke in, “much less fight.”

“I am a biotic god!” the volus insisted. “Like a great wind, I shall sweep across the galaxy like a…a great wind! A great…biotic…wind.”

Without further ado, Charlie tapped the volus between the shoulders. He stumbled slightly, and bumped his head on the wall. Staggering back at us, he mumbled, “But…great wind! Biotic god, I…what was I saying? Tired. Yes…go lay down. Conquer the universe…later.” He waved a hand at us as he waddled off.

“Sleep well,” Thane called after him. “Dream of bulbous women.” I fought back a snort.

Garrus sighed, shaking his head. “Let’s go.” Charlie was grinning as she led us along to the final checkpoint- it seemed, the office of Captain Wasea.

The asari, clad in custom blue and red armor, was drinking from a glass when we arrived, reading off of a datapad. She set them both down, walking around to meet us. “Everything has gone to hell since we smuggled that _filthy_ creature offworld.” She glared at us, then lifted a canister of Minagen, tossing it our way. “At least I’ll get to take the pleasure of turning _you_ into a _pulpy mess_!”

We rolled to dodge the canister, and it exploded on the ground, scattering toxic red dust everywhere. We popped out to fire, but the asari had been obscured by the red cloud.

Without warning, a huge stasis field came out of nowhere- the biotics-enhancing drugs were doing their job, I noted, as I was lifted from the ground. But Wasea wasn’t the only one who could make use of the environment.

With a huge biotic blast, I leveled the playing field, breaking free of the field and dropping onto the ground, fiercely aglow. I looked sideways to Thane, similarly powered-up, and Charlie, who was looking shocked at the new level of eezo undoubtedly coursing through her veins. Garrus was hiding somewhere in back from all the biotic muscle that was going around.

“Get out here!” I called, tossing a warp at where Wasea had vanished, sprinting into the cloud and sliding through it at maximum velocity, ending up nose to nose with the captain. She threw a punch, but I struck her in the side of her neck, hit her on all of the pressure points I could reach, swept her legs, snatched her gun as she fell, shot her a split second before she hit the floor.

I turned to the rest of the team, the extra rush slowly fading. I lowered the gun, set it down on the table. That was when I noticed the datapad, and picked it up. I hiked up to sit on the edge of the desk, as the others came up to take a look themselves.

“Look at that,” I said, as I opened up the information on the Eclipse chapter. “Elnora was the one who murdered Dakni Kur.”

“Then you were correct to suspect her,” Thane said. Even Charlie conceded, with a slight shrug and a nod.

Garrus tapped a shipping receipt. “And there’s Pitne For’s shipment. Minagen, Red Sand…he’s a smuggler, and there’s the proof.”

“We can take that to the detective,” I said, scrolling down to the arrivals and departures list. _Bingo._ I opened it up, and found the most recent one, labeled simply, _Ardat-Yakshi._

“Oh dear,” I murmured.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “What is that?”

Thane shook his head, brow furrowing. “The name sounds familiar, but I do not recall having ever learned its meaning.”

I shook my head. “Something awful, if they’re smuggling her around.” I shook my head. “This has got to be her. The AML _Demeter_.” _And how fitting._ Chills rolled up and down my spine, and I shuddered lightly before setting it down. “There’s our name. I’ll download the other things, and we can bring them back to the depot.”

Charlie nodded. “Good job, everyone. Let’s move out.”

We returned to the travel depot- the high volus had returned to Pitne For’s side (I hoped to god he was getting treatment). We walked inside, and found Anaya at her desk, Samara sitting up in a nearby alcove, meditating with her eyes aglow, a sphere of energy between her hands. She looked serene, but still dangerous. Anaya raised her head as we approached, and said, “Wow, you actually made it back.”

“Your fugitive left two days ago on the AML _Demeter_ ,” I spoke, in Samara’s direction. _You’re on a dangerous hunt;_ I communicated, by looks, and then turned back to the officer.

“I’m impressed,” Samara spoke, the biotic glow fading. “You fulfilled your end of the bargain, and I will fulfill mine.” She rose. “I am ready to leave immediately,” she said to Anaya, “If that satisfies your superiors, Detective.”

Anaya nodded. “Well, I have to thank you,” she said to us, then turning to Samara. “And it’s been an honor having you in my depot, Justicar. Now I can tell my great-grandkids I met one…” she looked back to us, the squad. “And you just upped my chance of _having_ great-grandkids.”

“Before we go,” I spoke, tossing _her_ a copy of the shipping records and the merc profiles. “Here. We found the murderer of Dakni Kur, and proof that Pitne For’s a smuggler.”

She looked them over. “That’s a help.” She nodded. “I can’t give you much, but here’s a discretionary bounty fee.” She tossed that my way, and I immediately sent it off to the _Normandy_ ’s collective arms and armament funds. We’d all fought our way in there, after all. It was hard-won for the whole team.

“Then you’ll be going?” Anaya looked to us, and then to Samara.

“There is one thing I must do before I depart with Shepard,” Samara spoke. “I must swear myself to her service, so that I will never have to choose between her orders, and the code.” Her eyes glowed white, and she closed them.

Without further ado, she knelt before the commander. “By the Code, I will serve you, Shepard. Your choices are my choices; your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my code.” She glowed suddenly, briefly, brilliantly blue, and then she rose, the biotic energy fading.

Anaya had stood to watch, and commented, “I never thought I’d see a justicar swear an oath like that.”

“If you make me do anything extremely dishonorable, I may have to kill you when I am released,” Samara addressed Shepard.

“Believe me, that one will never tell you to do _anything_ you would consider ‘extremely dishonorable’,” I said, jerking a thumb her way. “Push comes to shove; you’ll go rolling down Baelor right with her.”

Samara fixed me with her cool gaze. _You’ll be next,_ she communicated. Thane patted me briefly on the shoulder. _Time to stop, Glenn._

“I can see that this is an important act, Samara,” said Charlie. “Thank you.” She nodded to Anaya. “We’ll be going now.”

Together, we left the depot, and headed back to the docks to board the _Normandy_ once more. While Samara was briefed by Charlie and Jacob, I migrated to the lounge- expecting it to be empty, for the hour. Instead, I encountered John, sitting hunched over the bar.

“Trouble sleeping?” I quipped, strolling inside, scooting up onto the stool next to him.

He shrugged, mopped at his eyes and sighed. I sat, waited for him to speak.

“I…no. Just…everything’s coming into focus, you know?” he swirled his drink around in the cup. “After Horizon…I thought about leaving. Heading back to the Alliance, trying to work things out with…” he trailed off, sighed again. “The mission with Miranda…reminded me. I would do anything for my sisters.” He tossed back the rest of his drink. “Kaidan and the Alliance will have to wait.” He sat a moment, empty glass clutched in his hand. “Then…then I got this.” He handed me a datapad.

There was an email open. I looked it over:

_John,_

_I’m sorry for what I said back on Horizon. I spent two years pulling myself back together after you went down with the Normandy. It took me a long time to get over my guilt for surviving and move on. I’d finally let my friends talk me into going out for drinks with a doctor on the Citadel. Nothing serious, but trying to let myself have a life again, you know?_

_Then I saw you, and everything pulled hard to port. You were standing in front of me, but you were with Cerberus. I guess I really don’t know who either of us is anymore. Do you even remember that night before Ilos? That night meant everything to me... maybe it meant as much to you. But a lot has changed in the last two years and I can’t just put that aside._

_But please be careful. I’ve watched too many people close to me die -- on Eden Prime, on Virmire, on Horizon, on the Normandy. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you again. If you’re still the man I remember I know you’ll find a way to stop these Collector attacks. But Cerberus is too dangerous to be trusted. Watch yourself._

_When things settle down a little... maybe... I don’t know. Just take care._

_\--Kaidan_

I gave it back, with a slight smile. “Sounds like you might have a shot with him once this is all over.”

“Yeah,” said John, then he smiled. “Just another reason for me to survive this.” He looked to me. “It’s family first, though. I’ll never regret making that call.”

“Yeah,” I said, lamely, mind drifting elsewhere, feeling my smile fade. I pasted it back on for his benefit, patted his shoulder and said, “Well, I’m turning in.”

“Night,” he said, and I waved a two-finger salute and headed back for the surveillance room.

Before I could even hit the lift, someone materialized right in front of me, spooking me badly enough to jump half out of my skin. “Jesus, Kasumi, you can’t _do_ that.”

“Of course I can,” she remarked, frowning at me. “I just did, didn’t I?”

I sighed. “What do you want from me?”

She tilted her head, and then she passed me a datapad. “Some help with…a little operation.” She looked intently at me as I read over the mission specs. “I need someone with your skills. I figure? This is just our sort of ball game.”

I looked over the datapad, and then I started to nod. “When do we start?” I asked, looking back up at her.

Kasumi’s grin had an almost evil quality to it.


	12. Straight Out of a James Bond Flick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the chapter feels a little rushed at the end, it's because it was. I was sick and tired of staring at it and finally decided to just get it done. So, anyway, here's Kasumi's Stolen Memory. It belongs to Bioware, etc., enjoy.

The skycar screamed along the skyway, alone in its trajectory. The paint job was red, and the windows were tinted to the outside. Inside, I could see the water beneath us and the distant skyline just fine. Bekenstein was beautiful, and just the place for a target like ours to have settled down.

After I tugged on the hem of the leather dress for the thousandth time, Kasumi looked sideways to me, said, “Stop it. It’s fine.”

“Remind me why _this_ getup, specifically, was absolutely necessary?” I asked her, keeping my legs pressed tightly together. Sitting down, I barely had any leather under me. “A suit would’ve been less…constricting.” I shifted in the seat, sighing agitatedly as the thong rode up my ass. “And easier to conceal weapons with.”

“And you think _they_ don’t know that?” Kasumi tipped her head sideways again, her eyes glinting at me from beneath her hood. “They won’t hassle you over your pistol as long as it’s concealed, but if this goes the way I want it to, you won’t even need to draw it. And besides,” she turned back ahead. “We both know your best weapon is up here.” She tapped her left temple. “You’ve made a fortune in knowing how to talk. Some of it’s hacking, and breaking and entering, sure, but I could do all of that. _You_ can play people. Wrap them around your fingers without them ever suspecting a thing. And if all else fails, throw them out the window without ever touching them.” A pause. “You have the charisma I need for this. And you’re not afraid to get it done.” She turned to me. “The known criminal record didn’t hurt either. I’d have needed to fabricate one for anyone else. You were like a wrapped package dropped at my feet. You have everything to make this work. We get in; we get the graybox out from under Hock’s nose, and we get out of there.”

There was a pause, before I itched uncomfortably again, and said, “I still don’t see why the spray-on dress is necessary. When I wore one of these before, I had an asari gang lord and her cronies all playing watchdog on the premises.”

“You’d look out of place in armor at a fancy party, wouldn’t you?” she looked to me, grinning again. “You look nice. You should wear this stuff more often.”

I sighed, shifting my collar around and settling the cold necklace onto my collarbone. “Well, come on. I’m starting to get underboob fear sweat. Give me the brief, and let’s go do it.”

Obligingly, Kasumi pulled up a series of pictures: first, of a luxurious house front on its own little island. “Donovan Hock is throwing a party for all of his closest friends and admirers in his home. A few dozen of the galaxy’s worst criminals, drug dealers, and litterers are all gathering to pay tribute to their host.” She skimmed to the next picture, a gold statue of an eerie turian I remembered from the vids. “Our gift is a lovely rendition of Shepard’s old friend Saren, done in gold and filled to the brim with our weapons.”

“ _Your_ weapons,” I groused.

“You’ve got yours permanently planted into the back of your neck,” she retorted. I sighed, motioned for her to go on.

“Once inside, we’ll need to figure out how to crack his vault,” she said. “No one’s ever seen it, but then again, I haven’t ever tried.” She closed out the pictures. “Once in, we just get the graybox and then we go.” She was silent, a moment. “And I finally get the chance to stay goodbye.”

I looked to the side, eyes narrowing. _This isn’t just another heist._ But I held my tongue, because we had finally arrived.

When we disembarked from the red car, I recognized the security force scanning over our statue as hired Eclipse, wearing a classier black plate with the insignia blazoned across the front in white. I spared them a brief look before starting for the steps with Kasumi.

An Eclipse guard stopped us before we reached the stairs. “Ma’am, there seems to be something with the statue-”

“Is there a problem?” a voice sounded, from the top of the steps. Kasumi and I both looked to see a man in a suit descending, wearing dark hair and a goatee- he wasn’t bad-looking, if a little bit sour, somewhere in his mid-to-late thirties, speaking with a heavy South African dialect that I would recognize off anyone. Tomcat herself had been from Cape Town, and the inflections over the years had become ingrained.

The Eclipse guard scanned the statue again. “Well…”

“I don’t think our guests came all the way from Omega just to cause trouble,” he said, giving me the old once-over. “Do you?”

The Eclipse guard shook his head. “No.”

“Good.” He looked to me, expectantly.

“Glenn,” I said, simply, extending my hand like one would for a handshake.

“Donovan Hock,” he said, taking it instead and kissing my knuckles. “You may proceed. You were invited, after all. Your friend will have to stay outside.” I shared a quick look with Kasumi. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

I flashed him a dry smile. “If she has to stay outside, she’ll stay outside.”

He nodded. “I will see you inside, Ms. Glenn. Enjoy the party.” He turned, and headed back up the stairs. I walked off to the side with Kasumi, lowered my voice. “So now I guess I’m in charge of the talking.”

“That was the plan at any rate,” she whispered back. “I’ll keep in radio contact and stay cloaked nearby, help you when I can.” The air shimmered as her cloak engaged, and she disappeared.

I went up the steps, alone but not really, and walked into the door, looking about the luxurious villa and the visitors milling about inside- all human, save a few asari who were being dandled on the laps of the male patrons. “ _So now, we need to look for the entrance to his vault,_ ” Kasumi came in, over my earpiece. “ _Try not to look like you’re on a mission._ ” I just nodded, and walked slowly into the party main.

Wall hangings and modern art that I didn’t understand flanked the walls all around me. I heard chatter around me- “Did you hear about that ‘Archangel’ on Omega?” “I’d heard he was dead.” “Well, good riddance.” I stopped by Hock’s large fountain; where he was conversing a few feet away with a small group. A small staircase caught my eye, dipping down into the floor. “Checking it out,” I murmured, examining the surroundings to make sure no one was looking, before descending the steps. Kasumi flickered into view beside me, looking at the vault before us. “Well, there it is,” she said, stepping inside. I followed, sparing a glance at the statue with its eerie stare.

“Let’s see,” she murmured. “Well…very impressive.”

“This gonna be a problem?” I sidled in beside her, lifting an eyebrow.

“Please,” she replied. “Remember who you’re talking to.” She looked the vault over, ruminating. “Password-protected, with voice recognition. The password will probably be lying around here somewhere; probably with security. The voice sample should be easy, you’ll have to chat up Hock for that.” She tapped her chin, with the purple paint stripe. “DNA? Child’s play. We could probably get a sample from his private quarters. And the barrier? Cut the power. Never fails.” She gazed at the vault a moment more. “Keiji could get through a vault like this in his sleep,” she said. “And I’m better.”

“Then let’s get to it,” I said, nodding back up at the party. I pulled up my omni-tool, synced it to the power cables. “I’ll follow these to the generator to start.”

“I’ll stay close by,” Kasumi replied, and shimmered away into invisibility.

The omni-tool highlighted the currents with a bright orange glare whenever I moved in proximity- luckily, only noticeable up close. The other guests remained blissfully unaware of my intent. At last, I was led into a small grotto where a fire was burning. A holographic fire, I noticed, upon closer examination. “ _One sec_ ,” Kasumi whispered, popping out to punch in a quick override. The fireplace slid aside, revealing a generator that she overloaded. “That should do it,” she said, before disappearing again.

“What now?” I murmured, “Security?”

“If you can find it,” she said. “I saw a locked door under the left staircase coming in. It looked like it had a lock, but I could probably bypass it.”

“That’s where I’ll go, then,” I murmured, heading back again, pretending to admire and understand the modern art as I passed it by. I found the door Kasumi had mentioned, watched as the lock turned by an invisible hand, and opened the door. I walked quickly into the adjoining hall, drew my pistol from the thigh holster as Kasumi materialized beside me. “Ready when you are,” she said. I hit the open on the second door, and slid into cover behind the lintel, peeking out at the reveal of the two soldiers sitting at the monitoring station.

The first one to notice me gave a start, a double take, shouted, “Hey! You’re not supposed to-” he was cut off by a shot to the head, muffled by the silencer on my gun. The second went down while he was scrambling for his weapon, down to join his fellow on the floor. I holstered the gun before I walked back inside, adjusting the damned dress again and doing my level best to ignore the thong trying to crawl up my ass (there is a _reason_ why voluptuous girls don’t wear thongs, dammit), and sat down at the desk, looking at the monitor and snorting. “ _Blasto_ on the job.”

“I see porn more often,” said Kasumi, rifling through the datapads and papers on the desk. “Here it is! Password’s Peruggia.” Her eyes narrowed. “Hm.”

“What’s that?” I looked back up to her.

“That’s the man who stole the _Mona Lisa_ ,” she said, softly. “Nice.”

After checking the security and the systems to scrub any useful data, I left the monitor up and rose from the chair. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get out of here, before someone else comes in.” Kasumi disappeared, and I slipped out of the room, back into the commons with little pomp nor circumstance.

I glanced across the way at Hock- the thickset man was chatting up a few people, a glass of red wine in one hand, the other moving animatedly, gesturing in the air.

“ _You’ll need to get him talking long enough for me to get a voice sample,_ ” Kasumi spoke into my earpiece. “ _You can go now, you can wait until later._ ”

I looked back to Hock. “I’ll go now, seems like a good time to get an opening.” I started walking towards Hock, snagging a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, holding it as I approached the arms dealer where he stood. He looked me over as I approached, said, “Are you enjoying the party, Ms. Glenn? I hope the incident from earlier did not sour your evening?”

I shifted on my feet, pushed a hip out to the side, took a sip from the glass and put the moves on him. “It’s no trouble,” I assured him, pulling a slow, sultry smile. “So long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“I can promise you, Ms. Glenn-” he replied, with a slight smirk of his own, “-it won’t.” He began to turn back to the others present, but I halted him with a hand on his arm, which I trailed down to his elbow. “You don’t seem like the type of man to be so…” I paused, “…suspicious.” I raised my eyebrows, pursed my lips a little coquettishly. “But who would dare attack you, Donovan Hock, here? In your own home? Are you expecting trouble?”

He took my hand with his own, chuckling. “Ms. Glenn, people like us are the one who do the terrible things that keep the galaxy spinning.” He let me go, turned to address all of his guests in a speech, his arms sweeping out into the space. “The people; they want comfort, entertainment, love. And we- _we_ are the ones who keep up that façade. May there always be a market for the things we do.”

There was applause as he turned back to me. He nodded, off to one side and then the other, and finally turned his attention back to me.

“ _I said get him talking, and you got him talking,_ ” Kasumi spoke, in my earpiece. I ignored her for now- the last phase of the plan was underway.

“You’re a man of intent,” I remarked, flashing him my very best, top-of-the-line _come hither_ look.

“And you are a woman of persuasion,” he replied, eyeing over me, fingers shifting on the stem of his glass.

“Good eye,” I praised, swaying just a little bit closer. “Now, tell me, now that you’ve figured that out…are you persuaded?”

“It depends,” he said, “On what you are trying to persuade me of.” He raised his eyebrows. “I would not be opposed to doing business sometime in the future.”

I stepped even closer, close enough to lean in and press against him. “Why not now? You can show me what’s up those stairs and we’ll talk…business?”

Hock chuckled again, bringing the glass up to sip from it. “You may be the one of intent, Ms. Glenn.” I smirked at him, _that’s it, foot in the snare, one more step._ He lowered the glass once more. “A pity you lack the…latitude…to convince me.”

I was just startled enough to drop the face.

“Information brokers and arms dealers,” he went on, pausing to collect his words. “What do they have to trade one another?” he flashed me now an almost distasteful glance, shaking his head slightly. “No, no. They may flirt, but they do not…do business.” He turned back to the first group, barely pausing to say, “Enjoy the party, Ms. Glenn.”

I was rooted there, dumbfounded for half of a moment. Abruptly, then, I remembered myself, and bestowed my host a curt nod before stepping briskly off, escaping out onto the balcony before allowing the scowl to overtake me, for my hands to claw around the banisters and my shoulders to hunch in, pushing at the hardened gun muscles there. “… _enjoy_ the- like _hell_! Up yours! Bloody… _ugh_!”

“ _Glenn, calm down,_ ” Kasumi spoke, over my earpiece. I looked around, and caught the shimmer of a cloak perching up on the rim of a large potted tree. “ _He’s just a self-absorbed ass, I’m sure Afterlife was always full of them. You saw his speech, right? He’s so full of himself he probably trips over his own ego getting out of the shower._ ”

“He’s a eunuch, he’s _got_ to be,” I muttered. “You don’t just… _no_ body just brushes me off.”

A brief silence on the other end. “ _You know, maybe it isn’t Hock._ ” Another pause, as I stood there and stewed a moment. “ _Glenn, are you all right?_ ”

“I’m not used to being turned down,” I grumbled. But just then, something caught my eye. I straightened up, following the path with my eyes, all the way up to the window. Oh yes, that was definitely doable.

“ _Glenn_ ,” Kasumi even sounded slightly concerned now. “ _What are you thinking_ …?”

“Breaking,” I replied, as I vaulted over the rail and crept along the side of the building, through the pebble-lined plant beds. “And entering.”

There was silence, and so I assumed that Kasumi was in some way with me. I pulled my gun, and peeked around the corner- two Eclipse were patrolling the spot, narrow and obstructed by pillars supporting the overhanging balcony. I lined up and took my shot, bringing down the first one with a muted grunt, and tossing the other one over the edge and into the rocky sea with a good biotic throw. I looked around, crept up the edge, and stared up to the window. Wordlessly, I lifted my pistol, and shot out the window.

Now, it was just a simple climb in and down a short hallway to Hock’s room.

Kasumi materialized beside me. “Look around,” she said, quickly moving in to start the search. “There’s got to be enough here for a sample.”

I started at the couch, pulling my omni-tool to scan. “Aha!” I said, digging between the couch cushions.

“What? Is it a sample?”

“No, a credit chit.” My coat being sadly missing, I had to make do with stuffing the piece into my bra. I straightened up, looking around for obvious places. I checked the pillows first- “No hair or skin flakes.”

“The housekeeping must be very thorough.”

A few antique swords, looking Japanese in their make, were hanging on the wall. I stepped up to scan those, and nodded as my forensics protocol picked up on traces of his fingerprints. “I don’t think the housekeeping would dare touch these, though.” I looked to the left, blinked and went to plunder Hock’s vault, sending the creds to the _Normandy_ collective upgrade fund.

“His fingerprints are all over this,” Kasumi remarked. I turned, went to look at what she was holding- it was a datapad, figures scrolling rapidly across its screen. “He’s been trying to crack Keiji’s graybox, but it doesn’t look like he’s been having any luck.”

I scanned it quickly, and completed the DNA sequence we needed. “And as long as we hurry, he’ll never get the chance. Let’s go.”

When I stepped outside of the room, I heard talking down the hall-

“ _Someone said they saw somebody breaking in._ ”

“ _How?_ ”

“ _From the lower level. The deck. The window’s broken._ ”

“ _We had guards posted down there._ ”

“ _There’s no sign of them. Dead or-_ ”

They were cut off by Kasumi and me, open-firing on them. They fell with choked cries, and I walked nonchalantly from the hall, back into the party main.

“ _We have everything we need_ ,” Kasumi murmured. “Get back to the vault, and we’ll crack it.”

“Excellent,” I muttered, heading down the stairs, “And then we’re out of here.” I walked down into the vault entrance, and Kasumi reappeared, placing the samples into the scanner. _Welcome, Mr. Hock. Input password._

The playback on Kasumi’s omni-tool gave it a very Hock-ish _Peruggia,_ and the security barrier dissolved at last, the elevator opening. “Get my guns out of the statue, will you?” she asked, stepping inside to kill the security cameras. I went to the gilded replica of Saren, took one last look at the unnerving angles of his face before hitting the secret panel and pulling out the SMG. I joined Kasumi in the elevator, passed it off to her as the doors closed.

“Thanks.”

“We’re not done here yet, Goto.”

The lift carried us down fairly slowly, but when the doors at last opened up we were treated to an extensive sight- art of all times and cultures laid out before us, a trove that had my anthropologist’s fingers itching. “So this is Donovan Hock’s vault,” my companion mused, as we entered. “Very impressive.” I made a beeline for a few tablets encased in protective glass, eyes bugging out of my head when I got a closer look. “This is quarian writing,” I said, in a hushed voice. “How long has it been since quarians wrote on stone?” Kasumi, however, was focused on the ancient sculpture a few feet away, in awe. “Is this… _David_? _Damn_ you, Hock!”

We split up to look for the graybox. “It has to be here somewhere,” Kasumi muttered, as I eyeballed the angular turian sculptures and passed a statue of a strange creature, one even I’d never seen the likes of before. It had large horns and a very nasty-looking set of pauldrons; bracers with huge spikes jutting out from them. “Medieval interpretation?” Kasumi suggested.

“It does make quite the ogre,” I said, moving on.

We came to it at the same time- approaching; she began to run removal programs on the security platform. “Oh my god,” she murmured. “This is it.”

As the barrier blocking us from the contents dissolved, Kasumi picked the thing up, marveling at it before casting her eyes down again. “A Kassa Locust?”

I picked one up. “No,” I intoned, lowly, “ _the_ Kassa Locust.”

“The gun that killed two presidents,” Kasumi whispered, scooping up the second. “And it comes with a perfect replica. Nice.”

Spotting movement out of the corner of my eye, I whirled; pointing the gun at what I realized was a huge projection of Donovan Hock’s face. “We’re going to need them.”

Hock glared down at us. “I had a feeling it was you at the door, Goto. And I knew that if it really was, you would get in anyway.”

“Your security’s a little lax, Hock,” Kasumi retorted, her hands tightening. “I had expected more after the last time.”

Hock then looked to me, standing there in the damned leather dress, toting a famed gun and an unimpressed look. “So this is business, Ms. Glenn?”

I shrugged. “I gave you another option. You would’ve gone quicker, and you would’ve gotten to fuck me before you died.” I raised the SMG, slowly, to my side. “Now it’s not gonna be that easy.”

“If you think that you will escape this place-” anticipating the villain monologue, I cut him off by shooting the undoubtedly priceless work to my left. The anthropologist in me cringed, but in the end the broker won out.

Hock himself was stilled with a harsh gasp. “How _dare_ you,” he ground out- then, “ _Get_ them!”

As the Eclipse streamed in, I ducked into cover and glanced to my right when I heard a characteristic tone- “Flashbangs!” I cried, before it blew me to the side.

A ringing in my ears blocked out all other sounds- my vision was bright and spotty, the image just before the blast seared into my retinas. Reeling, I threw up a biotic barrier, shielding me from the fire in the crucial few seconds it would take me to recalibrate.

“The shuttle’s out by the landing pad!” I called, shooting out the few mercs near me, standing and making a break for the door. Together, we dashed through the halls, stopping when we were faced down by an ATLAS mech.

“ _Don’t fight back, Kasumi_ ,” all the while, Hock taunted us over the intercoms, “ _You know what happened to your boy toy when he did_.”

I heard Kasumi, for the first time sounding anything but bright- “ _You_ don’t talk about Keiji like that… _murderer_!”

Her omni-tool shattered the mech, and together we ran; ran for the doors and the light beyond them- “ _I will deal with them myself_!”

When we reached the outside, we were quickly met by a gunship.

Kasumi looked at it, and took off running at it.

“Right, I’ll just…” I trailed off, as I watched her scramble onto the pipelines, dance away from the machine guns, flip up onto the ship, and jab it with her omni-tool. She gave a little mock-salute to Donovan Hock, then gracefully flipped off of the gunship, landing on the ground like a cat as the thing swayed and then exploded behind her.

Cool girls don’t look at explosions.

And then, once the air was cleared, the shuttle came down, and we quickly got inside. You know, before we got arrested and all.

On our way back to the _Normandy,_ Kasumi fired up the graybox. She disappeared into the link the two implants shared- though I could see on the control panel the data that had been found, and the message last left by its owner: _destroy it._

When she returned from her mind, her eyes were glimmering beneath her hood.

“It’s what he wanted,” I said.

“I know,” she replied. “I know, but…this is all I have left of him.”

I blinked, and picked the thing up. “If it’s any easier for you…I’ll do it.”

She thought a moment, and she nodded, hurriedly. “Yes…just…just get it over with.” I turned away from her and I did so. And when it was done, I stepped forward and offered her a hug.

We returned to the _Normandy,_ right where we had left her, and came back up onto the crew deck- the mess was empty, save Joker, who was getting coffee. His eyes widened momentarily when he saw me in the dress.

“So, ah, how was Bekenstein?” he asked, leaning back on the counter and drinking out of the mug. “Do any shopping, or…?”

Kasumi and I shared a look. “A bit,” I answered.

“Dropped by to see an old friend,” she added, and I smiled. She would be all right. Maybe we had even gotten a friend out of this whole thing. “I’m going to turn in, Glenn. See you tomorrow.”

“Night,” I replied, watching her leave.

I looked back; noticed Joker was _still_ eyeing me up (it seemed like he couldn’t decide what to focus on; between the very flattering neckline and the tattoo that was peeking out from under the very short hem.) “The, uh, the necklace looks new,” he said.

I smiled. “It is.”

He nodded, blinked a few times, said, “You, uh, you look really good.” I raised my eyebrows, and he waved a hand, stammering, “I mean, you always look good, really, I, just…the dress is a change, it’s a…a different kind of, uh, good, and…” he paused, said quickly, “I’ve, ah, gotta go. Helm the ship. You know.” He hurried out past me, and I watched him go, smiling somewhat quizzically. _Well, that’s…new._

I retired to my room not long after- peeled out of the dress with a sigh and opened my lockbox to put my new necklace inside, smirking at it one last time before closing the lid.

Donovan Hock was dead, after all. It wasn’t like he was going to miss a Cullinan Diamond.


	13. Puberty (Why Can’t We Just Buy Him a Few Dances)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow day! I wrote a new chapter, guest-starring the M-920 Cain. Well, guys, here's Grunt's Rite of Passage. Coming next, Mordin's Old Blood.
> 
> Just a question for all you guys-what's your favorite Glenn/Not Joker pairing out there? There are definitely a few that I guiltily ship, just a little bit (you can probably tell which ones they are), but I'd love to hear any that you do. In return I'll gladly share my own. This is crack hour, let no pairing be impossible.
> 
> Also, there has been an update to the last chapter of Lair of the Shadow Broker; go ahead and check it out for the new content. :)
> 
> Enjoy this chapter, and as usual, it belongs to Bioware.

Some people marvel at how some things never change. Come to think of it, it's mostly old people that say that.

For the young, change doesn't come nearly fast (or easily) enough, and I found the feeling oddly familiar when the commander called me to the med bay.

“Charles?” I questioned, coming inside, finding her overseeing what looked to be a thorough top-bottom scan by Mordin- on Grunt, of all people.

“Glenn.” She turned to me, motioned me inside and waited until the door closed again behind me to speak. “We're looking for a third opinion. Mordin's credited your intuition a thousand times over…maybe Grunt can give you a better idea what this is.” She stepped aside, opening my line of sight to the krogan. Stand proud, I recalled. Back erect, chin up, look down the nose like everything is beneath me.

“What's the issue, Grunt?” I asked.

The young krogan muttered something under his breath, shifting grumpily on his two huge feet.

“Tell me what is happening, Grunt,” I said, sharply, applying a corona to my whole body. He respected the commander's authority, but I had to prove worthy of my strength- it could come down to a fight before I wrung the truth out of him.

Backing down at the wash of biotics, he grumbled and spoke at last: “I feel…wrong.”

“That's descriptive,” I deadpanned.

“Back down in the cargo hold, Grunt mentioned his skin crawling,” Charlie mentioned.

“Right,” I murmured, nodding.

“It's fine when I'm in battle,” he said. “When I fight. But after that…I feel _wrong_. Like I want to kill something. With my hands.”

“Did someone crack a misogynistic joke around you?” I smirked at him, the look slowly fading when I saw the others were looking blankly at me. “That's what makes me want to kill something with my hands,” I muttered, sighing and putting my hands on my hips. “Well, truth is, Charles, I can't say. I'm an anthropologist first; and this doesn't match any xenopathogen I've heard of, and I've been around. I'd recommend taking him to Tuchanka.” I crossed my arms. “If anyone knows what this is, it'll likely be one of their shamans.”

“We were headed there anyway for Mordin's business,” Charlie sighed, fixing her ponytail. “I guess this just makes it urgent.” She looked to the ceiling. “EDI, have Joker set a course for Tuchanka immediately.”

“You know I'm right here, right?” Joker chipped in before EDI could give her usual, pleasant reply.

“Well, EDI always is,” Charlie replied.

“You're suggesting he goes anywhere?” I quipped. A brief chuckle rolled over the intercom, and Joker put back; “Ha, very funny, Glenn. This from the woman who has zero responsibility aboard.”

“Hey, I do things,” I retorted, “I fly the shuttle, sometimes.”

“Sometimes. And what the hell do you call that, then?”

“Boldly going where no man has gone before,” I replied, grinning.

There was a brief silence over the intercom, and then he broke the silence: “I am so hot for you, you have no idea.”

“Enough, you two,” said Charlie, directing a tired smile at the ceiling. “Tuchanka, Joker.”

“Already done, Commander,” he said, “I can fly and talk.” Shaking her head, the fond exasperated look betraying the soft spot for her pilot, Charlie took her leave, followed by Grunt; who was now looking like an excited child at the prospect of visiting the home planet.

A silence passed, in which Mordin closed his omni-tool, saving the data he'd collected first to some remote server, probably. Joker broke it with a whisper: “Hey, is she gone?”

“Yes,” I said, unable to help the smile that came back.

“Boldly go to my quarters later?” he posed, almost impishly. Mordin cleared his throat loudly, and Joker spoke again, “Wait, is someone in there with you? Is it Mordin?”

“Discussion still stands, Joker,” said Mordin, and it sounded like a threat.

“Right, ah, I gotta go,” said Joker, sounding almost nervous. “Come up here later?”

“Joker,” Mordin warned.

“Going, going, line closed, locked, bye,” the pilot blurted, and again we were left in silence. Mordin shook his head, and I cast him an amused sideways glance.

“Mordin, did you threaten him with anything?”

Mordin coughed, delicately. “Don't need to worry, Glenn.”

“ _He_ is,” I quipped, pointing at the ceiling.

“Just…made mention of behavior towards you to him.”

“How so?”

“Well.” Mordin sniffed. “First, pointed out difference in treatment towards you in comparison to rest of crew. Teasing unusually promiscuous in nature. He was…defensive. And then swore me to secrecy.” Mordin shook his head. “Can say no more, Glenn. Sworn to secrecy.”

I sighed, flashing a tired smile (suddenly understanding the commander). “Mordin, I assure you it's fine. I'm…attractive, by human standards. Joker is a red-blooded young male, I'm a very available young female…” I trailed off, trying to put into terms the salarian would more easily understand. The whole concept of sexuality was (apparently) only an object of study for the species, and trying to explain why human men (and select women, and asari, and various other species) found the aesthetics of my rear end pleasing would be far more difficult than writing it off to pheromones- when in truth, it was far less simple than that. In some ways, I nearly envied them. Envied them, until I heard them discussing sex like a chore again. No, I'd take it with all its complications.

Speaking of. My mind wandered to the bridge; where Joker was getting us to Tuchanka (probably arguing with EDI, brow furrowing and lips moving in that very expressive way of his.)

Mordin's sigh reminded me of his presence (Christ; either I had really zoned out or Mordin was being unusually quiet today.) “Still,” he said, “don't want to see you getting hurt. Or…inconvenienced, whatever word fits.” He shook his head, rapidly.

Somewhat touched, I smiled. “No worries, Mordin. It's just a bit of flirting is all. Quite normal between humans- harmless.”

Mordin inhaled, and nodded. “Never understand humans, truly, odd trivial practice-” he was back to his old self as he exited, already taking notes on his omni-tool as he headed off towards the lift.

Me, I stayed around a few moments longer, in contemplation, before I left and opened the cabinets for a snack, taking it up with me on the lift. I came out on the CIC, passed John and Paxton, deep in discussion. They looked up as I walked by, listened to something Kelly Chambers whispered, which made the three giggle. Somewhat bewildered, I continued down the walkway, finally stopping at the bridge. “-I'm telling you, the calculations aren't accounting for the anomalies. It may say it's shorter to take the Annos Basin approach, but we'll actually save time if we go the long way around. Citadel zone clears out the dust on their side; we'll have to fly through the nebula this way.” Joker was gesturing at the current course, scowling at the winking interface next to him.

“ _The Normandy should not be affected adversely by the weather_ ,” EDI replied. “ _The Annos Basin course will be suitable._ ”

“You-” Joker started, jabbing a finger at the interface, probably about to make another threat about pulling out all the cords in the AI Core and plugging them in again in different spots.

“EDI, stop wheedling him,” I broke in. “Just plot the jump through the Viper relay.”

“ _Very well, Glenn_.” The course changed, and the AI dropped out of sight, to give us the illusion of privacy.

Joker heaved a gusty sigh, pulling the cap from his head to tousle his hair before he stuck it back on, turning the chair to me. “Why does it listen to you?” He complained.

“Because,” I said, flouncing down onto his lap without particular grace, taking care to lift most of my weight, readjusting my center of gravity with the assistance of the eezo in my system. “Oh, hello,” said Joker, smirking smugly at me (British girls in the lap do wonders for one's self-image), resting a hand on my thigh.

“Hey,” I replied, with a smile, lifting my arm and resting it over the top of the chair. “So. This is where you helm the ship.”

“Yup.” He nodded at the front monitor, currently to our right. “Best seat in the house.” He reached up to adjust our course minutely, and then returned his hand to my knee, letting it run slowly up to the middle of my thigh, briefly squeezing before returning it to its previous seat. “Anyone ever teach you how to fly a starship?” he asked me, grinning up at me in that very cocksure way of his.

“I can't say that they have,” I replied, looking to the interface.

“You've flown a shuttle before,” he said, grinning roguishly and reaching out; tugging the interface in closer. “A ship's a lot the same; just…bigger.” He tossed the holos back out again and tapped on a flashing button, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I see,” I drawled, wrapping my arms loosely around his shoulders, scratching under his chin; while I wiggled a bit on the obvious boner he was popping and see how far he'd be willing to go in this flirting game. “It must be a pilot thing.”

“Well, psh,” he grinned, tongue poking out from between his teeth. “Not _every_ pilot…”

“Just you?” I questioned, innocently.

“All I'm saying is,” he put his hands up in a classic shrug, “you ever end up landing some doomed ship you end up on; you can tell the press afterwards that you learned from the best.”

“Mm,” I nodded, now tipping his chin up with my finger. God, that stretch of exposed, scruffy neck was positively delectable. Before I could so much as bite at his Adam’s apple; a set of heels approached, and I sat back with a soft sigh of disappointment as Miranda Lawson entered the vicinity.

“Yes?” I sighed, irritated at having my conquest interrupted just before I closed the deal. Shook and signed on. _Almost_.

“Glenn, you do know that every time you get overtly sexual with someone, I have to send a report to the Illusive Man?” She said, folding her arms and standing with her hips at a tilt. _Hey, I do that_.

“Is that why he tries so hard to outmatch me?” I stood up, leaned on the chair with a shrug. “The offer still stands, by the way,” I added, flashing her a grin.

Miranda's expression remained flat, and clearly uninterested. “I don't appreciate having to look through security footage for you and whoever else; I've already had to file six reports, _four_ of which are all accounted to Engineer Donnelly. All I'm saying is that you could stand to lay off a bit.”

“And you could stand to loosen up a bit, but I don't see a mai tai.”

Miranda sighed heavily, and turned away to head back to her office. “You create a lot of work, Glenn.”

“Maybe try asking why the Illusive Man wants to know who I fuck?” I called after her, and then sighed, shaking my head.

Joker was looking at me, his face a mixture of faintly impressed and…something else. “Six?”

I sighed. “I'm off of my game; can't blame me. This is a small ship.”

Joker stared at me, tilting his head quizzically. I shrugged. “She's overreacting. I do this to everybody, I haven't had honest-to-God sex in several weeks, that's a while for me.” I shrugged. “Nothing personal. I'm climbing the walls, that's all.” I looked at him, and he looked away from me, ahead at the interface.

“Right,” he said, after a brief, awkward silence. “I should, uh. Focus on flying.”

I blinked. “All right,” I said, leaving. “Good luck with that.” And you said you could fly and talk. Had my promiscuity offended him somehow? It wouldn't be the first time; and likewise it was something I had learned not to care about. Maybe, perhaps, he had thought he was the only one to receive such treatment, which may have explained his reticence to continue. After all, he had expressed interest after the heist; I'd taken it as a cue to go on. Maybe he was withdrawing, because he now knew he wasn't the only one.

Either way, recoverable. There were plenty of others on this ship, surely one of them was up for a good fuck. It was getting difficult to sleep at nights, and my hands weren't cutting it anymore. It'd have to be later, though, after I got back from Tuchanka.

I loaded my guns to go, followed Grunt, Mordin, Garrus, Paxton, and Charlie into the shuttle, diving into Tuchanka’s atmosphere, skimming over the nuclear war-scarred surface and dipping down into an underground compound. There we disembarked, met almost immediately by a detachment of angry-looking krogan. “What brings _you_ to Tuchanka?” he growled, and I had to take a moment to smack my forehead, because _really,_ a turian and a salarian? Someone needed to stop letting Charles pick the landing parties. “Leave this to me,” I muttered, pushing past her to the front of the pack. “We’re here on business,” I told the krogan, looking brazenly up at his eyes and balling my fists by my sides.

“I don’t like the look of your friends,” he rumbled, warningly.

“I can keep my own in line,” I replied, tersely. “Now out of my way.”

For a moment I thought I would have to apply a biotic shove, but he growled, and moved aside of his own accord. “Stop and check with the clan leader before you go anywhere else.”

I walked past him without reply. From the back, Paxton whispered to her sister, “Have I ever mentioned how glad I am we recruited her?”

And so into the compound we went- passing muttering krogan, varren fighting pits, progressed up to a big krogan sitting in a big chair on the top of a big pile of rubble.

However, before we could reach him requesting our audience; we were stopped by another krogan. “Not now. The clan leader is busy with business.”

Charlie began to peer past. The krogan leader was braced on the arm of his throne, looking immensely bored- he turned, and suddenly caught sight of her standing there. He stood. “Shepard?”

The krogan that had halted us looked confusedly, from us to the clan leader, and had no choice but to step back when Charlie asked, “That good enough for you?”

“Shepard!” the clan leader said, stepping down to enfold her in a bone-crushing hug (good thing she was augmented.)

“Wrex!” said Charlie, and then she stepped back.

“I’d heard you were dead,” said Wrex, as he beckoned us up. He sat down on his throne again. “They should have known it wouldn’t be that easy- ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system.”

“Ah…krogan don’t have that, Wrex,” said Charlie.

“Oh,” Wrex paused. “Well, it must’ve really been painful, then.” His beady red eyes scanned the rest of the group. “Paxton, good to see you. Vakarian; looking a little less like a beanpole. Shepard, where’s your brother?”

“Watching the ship,” Charlie replied. “Listen, Wrex, we have something we need to ask you.” We stepped apart, to let Grunt forward. “This is Grunt. He’s been off lately, and we were looking for…a practiced opinion.”

Wrex looked over Grunt with narrowed eyes, stepped forward and sniffed him. “Where did you come from, whelp?” he asked.

“The Warlord Okeer…created me,” Grunt replied.

“Okeer,” Wrex replied. “That’s an old name…a _hated_ name.” He circled back, and sat down again on his throne. “There’s nothing wrong. Grunt is simply ready to go through the Rite. He’s becoming an adult.”

Garrus sighed, with a brief _tsk._ “Adolescence? Can’t we just take him to Omega and buy him a few dances?”

“I’d do in a pinch,” I spoke up. “Got any poles, anyone?”

Our brief brainstorming session was broken up by the krogan Wrex had been being bored by before we’d shown up speaking again. “You can’t be serious. Allowing this…tank-bred to take the Rite? This I can’t stand for-”

“ _Enough_ , Uvenk,” Wrex growled, standing up, crossing to the other krogan, and giving him a solid whallop on the head. “I’ll drag your clan into the future whether you like it or not.”

“The shamans won’t stand for this, Wrex,” Uvenk called, and stormed off.

Wrex sighed, taking his seat once more. “You can see what I’ve made for my work, Shepard. The next step to the Rite is to speak to the shaman. Just follow Uvenk, and you should find him up there.” The old krogan pointed. Charlie nodded. “Thanks, Wrex.”

“Anytime, Shepard.” He looked among us all. “Is there anything else?”

Paxton put her hand up. “Mordin here has a matter to ask after.”

Wrex’s eyes narrowed at the salarian stepping forward, but he just said, “What is it?”

“Heard that colleague of mine had been here recently,” Mordin said. “Salarian by name of Maelon. Young. Scientist.”

“We don’t get many salarians here,” Wrex said, “It’s probably the same one we’re talking about. You’d have to take that up with the scout; he didn’t stay around these parts for long.”

Mordin nodded. “Many thanks. Glenn, come with?”

I was about to speak before Grunt said, “Glenn is the strongest. She goes with me.”

“I-”

“Important matters, require someone of similar mind to assist-”

“ _Enough_ ,” I snapped, holding up both of my hands to silence them. “Okay. Mordin, you go and figure out matters with the scout. I’ll go with Grunt meanwhile; as soon as I get back I’ll head out with you.”

“If you survive,” Wrex threw in, with a sardonic smirk.

“Right,” I said, beginning after Charlie and Grunt. “I’ll be back.”

I caught up with them in a few paces, blew a quick exhale. “Is that how it feels, then?” I asked, to Charlie. “Being popular?”

“Sometimes,” she replied, and we followed Wrex’s directions up to the shaman, who we found bearing the brunt of Uvenk’s blathering. He peered past the rampant krogan, asked, “Is this the youngling?” he pushed past, to look Grunt over, and sniff him (again.) “Looks right. He smells right. I see no reason why this one cannot take the Rite.”

“He will never be a true krogan,” Uvenk began. “He is a pale shade of what we truly are, a _mockery_ of-”

It was more out of surprise that he stopped talking than out of pain when I brought my head up against his. I stumbled back a few paces, but maintained my scowl, rubbing at the back of my neck.

Uvenk gasped, indignant: “How… _dare_ you-”

The shaman just gave a bark of laughter: “I like this human! She understands!” He looked us both over, and said, “Then you two must be his _krantt._ ” He nodded. “Very well. This Rite will now begin. Follow me.”

We rode in one of the huge trucks possessed by the krogan, jolting over the landscape and rubble. Grunt was nearly vibrating with excitement; I was just curious about what this Rite would entail, and wondering how a fight had not yet managed to break out between Charlie and I.

“You’ll press the button once you get inside to begin the Rite,” the shaman told us.

“What do we do?” Grunt asked.

“Survive,” he replied, and climbed back into the truck.

And so we were left alone- to progress alone out into the arena, look about the barren circle and find that button. “Do the honors, Grunt?” Charlie suggested, and the young krogan moved forward, hit the big circle.

The green turned to red. “Uh-oh,” I intoned, but for a moment there was silence.

Then, the ground began to rumble. “Holy Saint Francis,” I muttered.

“MAW!” Charlie bellowed, as we raced for cover. A thresher maw burst from the ground, roaring and shaking out the tendrils of its, well, maw.

“THIS IS _NOT_ HOW I IMAGINED GOING OUT,” I yelled, from my position to Charlie’s.

“WE JUST HAVE TO SURVIVE,” Charlie yelled back. “MILLIONS OF KROGAN HAVE DONE IT BEFORE.”

“ _KROGAN,_ ” I retorted, “KROGAN ARE NUCLEAR-HARDENED, THIS IS NOT A TEST DESIGNED FOR SQUISHY HUMANS.”

“WHERE’S GRUNT?” Charlie asked, suddenly. I turned out of cover, and my mouth dropped open.

“He’s, uh,” I said, “He’s gone.”

Grunt was making like Pickett and running straight for the maw, shotgun braced, roaring bloody murder.

“GLENN, GET HIM AWAY FROM THAT!” Charlie yelled.

“Me, it’s _always_ on me,” I said, though it was only me listening, as I broke cover and sprinted after the gun-ho krogan, shoving him out of the way with a biotic push and rolling into another position of cover with the equal and opposite reaction.

“Fighting a thresher maw on foot, huh?” Charlie recalled, as she slid into cover beside me.

“Have I ever told you something is FUBAR before?” I asked. “Well, I lied, _this_ is FUBAR.”

“Not to worry,” said Charlie, and when I looked she had unloaded a weapon the size of my torso, marked with a hazard sign. “I’ve got a little something for it.”

“Charles?” I questioned. “Charles, what is that? What are we-”

“Stay in cover.”

“No, don’t come up, Charles, you’re going to be dissolved by thresher acid, and you know who’ll get blamed for it?”

“Watch this,” she said, aiming the thing.

“Oh, _no,_ ” I moaned, and covered my eyes.

Seconds later, there was a huge, loud beaming noise. And then there was a huge, earth-shattering _thud._ Slowly, I dared to raise my head, above the barricade, whimpering.

“The M-920 Cain,” said Charlie, patting the side of the thing. “One of the advancements of the past few years.”

“You’re a bloody maniac,” I said, sagging onto the barricade and closing my eyes against the image of the dead thresher maw, laid out on the ground.

Just then, however, there was a huge, rumbling noise- the thresher was getting up, shaking off the effects of its particle blast, looking very, very angry- it saw Grunt, and rose, reared, enveloped the krogan in its huge maw-

“Did that thing just…” I gaped. “… _eat_ Grunt?”

There was a muffled _boom._ Blood and guts suddenly shot out of the thresher maw’s head, and then the entire thing sagged back, incredibly, and undoubtedly, dead. And Grunt walked out, covered in blood and brains.

“Bloody hell,” I said, weakly, as Charlie vaulted over the barricade and ran the rest of the way over to him. “I’m never leaving the ship again.”

As we reached Grunt, we had a few moments to regroup before we heard the approach of more- it was Uvenk, flanked by several other krogan.

“What do you want?” Grunt rumbled, adopting a warning stance.

“See?” Uvenk said, lowly, slowly circling the young krogan and returning to his own. “So strong.” He lifted his chin. “You may be false…but you could serve our clan well. Of course, you would never be able to breed. But you would make a fine captain. What say you?”

Charlie was scowling. “What do you say, Grunt?”

“I say they die,” Grunt replied, and I pulled the pin on my grenade to toss it out into the group without further ado. As those who hadn’t been killed by the initial blast ran frantically about on fire (didn’t anyone ever learn stop, drop, and roll on Tuchanka?), I smiled and handed the pin back to Charlie. She looked pointedly at her belt, now missing a grenade. “Shall we head back?”

“I find myself worried about my valuables.”

“Nice job, by the way, Grunt. Can’t wait to tell the others all about it.”


	14. Krogan Politics, Social Darwinism, and Bioethics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mordin: Old Blood- some of the most important cut content, imo. Here it is! As usual, Bioware's not mine, etc. etc. etc., enjoy!

The shakiness had fairly deserted my legs by the time we got back. Grunt, covered in blood and brains, stood proudly before the clan leader, who looked him over, sniffed him, and pronounced him Urdnot Grunt, now eligible to serve in the army, father children, and apply to serve under a battlemaster.

“Shepard is my battlemaster,” Grunt spoke, from where he knelt. “She has no match.” He stood, and then he elbowed me, grinning (I stumbled several feet to the side, but no matter.)

“And now, I imagine you can head back to the _Normandy_ and get cleaned up?” Charlie turned to Garrus and Paxton, waiting by Mordin. “I imagine you’ll report back once business is taken care of.”

“Certainly,” Paxton replied. Charlie nodded, and headed off with the now not-so-little krogan, to go back for a hot bath and dinner. I envied them, though the adrenaline thrumming in my blood told me I would need more than just a hot bath and dinner when _I_ got back. My thoughts went to tattoos and a hot bath for two, and that was a pleasant consideration, but I had Mordin’s business to take care of first. Business, _Normandy,_ food, bath, long legs, pouty lips…

Focus, Glenn.

“And now we have to take care of the rest,” I sighed, wearily rubbing my eyes, turning to the rest. “Did you find the lead you needed?”

Mordin pointed at the road out. “Scouts sent to Weyrloc camp. Never returned.”

“Then we head there first,” I nodded, looking to Paxton. “Lead the way, then.”

The four of us boarded a tomkah, and together we rode out to the specified spot. We found the entrance to the underground bunker after a few hordes of krogan and klixen, with a few varren for good measure.

“Sounds like they’re locked up,” said Garrus, after rapping on the large metal doors. “You think they’d open up if we brought take-out?”

“Let me handle this,” I said, pushing him out of the way. I placed my palms on the metal, feeling for resistance. Then I stepped back, fired a warp, and then a shockwave. The metal bent in on itself, the structure groaning as its integrity weakened. A well-placed kick broke us in.

“Oh, a hospital,” Garrus sighed, as we walked inside. “I hate fighting through hospitals. It’s damned depressing.”

“All right,” retorted Paxton. “What places _do_ you like fighting through?”

“Gardens,” said the turian, without missing a beat. “Electronics shops. Antique stores, but only if they’re classy.”

I sighed, called back over my shoulder. “Will you two get a room?”

Ignoring the characteristic, “we weren’t flirting what are _you_ talking about” splutter, I looked to Mordin as he fell into step beside me.

“Facility clearly old,” he said, “Abandoned. Falling apart.” Something crumbled above us, showering dust as if to prove his point.

I inhaled with a grimace. “I guess they never do lose that antiseptic smell, do they?”

The both of us slowed down, as we approached what we realized to be a human body.

“What the hell?” I whispered, kneeling by the discarded corpse’s side. He looked fairly young, with brown hair.

“Signs of restraint around wrists,” Mordin remarked, “Injection sites…test subject.”

“Why would they be using humans?” I looked to him, then the others. “And what for?”

Mordin looked uneasy, but he was saved from answering by the sounds of heavy footsteps up above. The four of us straightened up, and looked to the new arrivals.

There were three krogan, two marked as Blood Pack and helmeted, the third in the armor that seemed to mark an important member of the group, unhelmeted, looking down at us.

“I am the speaker for Clan Weyrloc, offworlders,” he bellowed at us. “You have shed our blood. By rights, you should be dead already!”

“Oh, great,” I muttered, “A fanatic.”

“But Weyrloc Guld, the Chief of Chiefs, has ordered you be given leave to flee and spread the word of our coming!”

“Look, we just killed a hundred krogan to get in here,” I called, jabbing a thumb over my back. “What do you think we’re going to do to the rest of you?”

“If you walk away now, you can tell your children that you saw Clan Weyrloc before our Blood Pack conquered the stars!” Garrus, Paxton, and I shared a look. “You think the Urdnot impressive? They are pitiful! Weyrloc Guld will destroy them! The salarian will cure the genophage, and Clan Weyrloc will spread across the galaxy in a sea of blood!”

“Genophage?” I repeated, bewildered. Mordin was tense beside me.

“When we cure the genophage, Weyrloc Guld will rule all krogan!” the clan speaker had begun to pace, as he laid out these grand future plans. “The Krogan Rebellions will become the Krogan _Empire_!” he stopped, looked to Garrus. “The surviving races will frighten their children with tales of what the krogan did to the turians! The asari will scream as their Citadel plunges into the sun- we will keep salarians as _slaves_ and eat their eggs as a delicacy.”

Mordin recoiled- and I’d heard enough. “You talk too much,” I said, pulling my pistol and firing under the speaker’s feet. His initial surprise segued into mockery as he and his henchmen pulled their shotguns. “See? The human cannot hit a simple target!” Suddenly, he froze. The hissing beneath him soon became a high-pitched squeal-

I fired again, and he was engulfed in flame. The tank exploded, showering the three krogan in scalding gas- they screamed, they fell, and they were dead.

I put my pistol away, and I turned to Mordin. “I think we need some answers,” I said, folding my arms over my chest as Garrus and Paxton filed in beside me. “What is going on here, Mordin? Why do the Weyrloc have Maelon…what was he even doing here in the first place?”

Mordin’s eyes flicked between the large of us. He sighed, closed his eyes briefly and opened them again. “Was not always scientist. Some time ago, worked on top-secret project with STG. Krogan are…adapting, to genophage. Beginning to overcome virus. Population bouncing back.”

My eyes widened, and I half-laughed, “Well, that’s brilliant! The genophage was a mistake in the first place.” My face fell as I watched Mordin, realized he was still completely flat.

“Was part of handpicked team,” said Mordin. “Maelon as well. Worked on the genophage…modified it.” My eyebrows knitted and my mouth fell open. “Re-released it.”

“You…” I turned to the side, took a few steps, shook my head and turned back. “You _modified_ it? The _first_ time was an abomination bordering on a war crime, to do it again, it’s…it’s murder!”

“Couldn’t ignore Krogan Rebellions,” he replied, “Genophage not a sterility plague! Only an adjustment. Bringing krogan birth rate down to one of one thousand…evens out numbers, eliminates risk.”

“I don’t believe this,” I scoffed, “That you would do this to an entire species. That you would condone it, that you were a part of it and you didn’t even _stop_ it, I mean, what happened to not experimenting on species whose members are capable of calculus; simple rule, never broke it? Was that a lie? ‘Killed many people, many methods- gunfire, knives, drugs, tech attacks, once with farming equipment, but not with medicine,’ was that a lie too?”

“Never saw the destruction caused, not aware of the parameters!”

“I don’t _care_ about the parameters,” I cut him off, wheeling to set off at a clip up the ramp, and onto the next level. “I just never thought you were capable of this. I guess I was wrong.”

Mordin trailed after me, Garrus and Paxton bringing up the rear. The results ahead of us were gruesome- monitors labeled with minor findings and littered with death tolls, discarded bodies in one room, and the last with a large table, the latest victim of the experiments covered with a black tarp.

“Female. Multiple tumors. No restraints…voluntary.” Mordin read off of the monitor, then closing his eyes and waving a hand over the body. “Rest. Go to better place.” He opened them again, scowled and shook his head. “True science requires no test subjects.”

I turned to him. “Showing repentance now?” I gestured at the corpse. “This is your life’s work, Mordin. Take a look.”

“Never wanted this,” he said, quietly.

“What you want is irrelevant,” I replied. “They just want to be able to hold their children, Mordin. Without fear of birthing them already cold.”

Mordin stared at the corpse, for a long time. He turned to me. “They might…torture Maelon. For involvement…”

“They just might,” I said. I gave the corpse one last look, then nodded at the door. “Let’s go find him.”

We emerged through the next door, and straight into the hot zone. We grabbed cover, and I first stripped the armor off the vorcha. An overload from Garrus made them explode. The varren quickly went crazy, and a bullet or four between the eyes took out who I later learned was Weyrloc Guld, but at the moment I wasn’t focused on that. I was following Mordin through the double doors at the end of the hall and walking in on a salarian in a lab coat, working at a terminal. He jumped at the sound of us entering, backing up against his console.

“Maelon?” Mordin walked inside, SMG still clutched in his hand, though it fell to his side. “Alive? Unharmed?” we moved closer, and Maelon turned away, continued his work. “No restraints, no signs of torture…don’t understand.”

“For such a smart man, Professor, you always had trouble seeing evidence that disagreed with your preconceptions.” Maelon, at last, crossed to us. “How long will it take you to admit I came here because I want to be here?”

I turned to Mordin. “You said he was part of your team. The one that worked on the genophage.”

“Impossible,” said Mordin. “Whole team agreed project was necessary!”

“How was I supposed to disagree with the great Professor Solus?” Maelon retorted. “I was your student! I looked up to you!”

I felt the words, like a reflection of my soul. I looked sideways to Mordin, kept silent, allowed the two to hash it out.

“Experiments performed, live subjects, torture, _executions;_ your doing!” Mordin realized.

“We’ve already got the blood of millions on our hands, doctor!” Maelon argued. “If it takes a bit more to put things right, _I_ can deal with that!”

“We’re shutting your lab down, Maelon,” I broke in.

“Shutting down more than that,” said Mordin, eyes narrowing.

Crazed, Maelon pulled a pistol, pointed it, wavered between the four of us. “You can’t face the truth, can you? Can’t admit that your brilliant mind led you to commit an _atrocity-_ ”

Faster than any of us expected, Mordin had moved, slapped the pistol out of his hands, shoved Maelon up against his interface and pressed the muzzle of his gun under his former student’s jaw.

“Unacceptable experiments,” he said. “Unacceptable goals.” He shook his head. “Won’t change. No choice…have to kill you.”

I stepped rapidly up beside him, saw myself in Maelon’s wide eyes, jerked Mordin’s elbow back. “Mordin, no,” I said. He looked to me. “You’re not a murderer.”

Motionless, for a moment, he started suddenly and jerked away, dropped the gun on the floor. “No, no…not a murderer.” He looked to Maelon, said, “Leave, Maelon. Get off Tuchanka.”

“Where will I go?” asked Maelon, in a wavering voice.

“Omega,” I said, quickly. “They could always use another clinic.”

Maelon took one wavering step. Then another. Then, he lurched and ran out the door. I didn’t relax until he was out of sight and out of range.

“Thank you, Glenn,” said Mordin, after a moment of silence. He looked to the terminal, scanned the data, placed his hands loosely over the keys. “STG will be…thorough. Have to delete the data.” He looked up at the screen again. “Methods brutal, but results significant. Should destroy it…”

“Keep it,” I told him. He looked at me, questioningly. “You never know when you might need it.”

He looked to the screen. He looked to his hands…and then he began typing. “Saving data to disc. Erasing local copies.” The screens came down, and slowly the room faded into darkness.

Later, when we had returned to the ship, I was sitting in Mordin’s lab, listening to the stories of his thespian days and tracing patterns into the counter. At last, I looked up to his current project, and frowned.

“What are you working on there?” I tilted my head.

He dropped the window. “This? Nothing, reading over Maelon’s data. Break in current cultures, waiting for results. Just looking.”

I smiled, and lowered my head onto my hand again. “Just curious.”

Mordin flashed me one of his froggy smiles, and went back to reading.

“Tell me more about your favorites?”

“Ah, was in _Hamlet_ once!” he went off, on another invective. “Played the part of Polonius- ‘but, as brevity is the soul of wit, I will be brief!’…”


	15. Editing Placeholder

Under construction! Beyond this point, the story is undergoing revisions and rewrites. I thank you for your patience while I rework  _A Matter of Trust_ into a complete story.


	16. A Series of Several Last Requests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit goes to BioWare. This chapter was cut from its original length. The content has been redistributed.

Getting back to Eternity took just about no time at all- quick skycar ride back directly to the lot belonging to the bar. Inside, everyone was just about where we’d left them- except for Paxton, who was cutting loose on the dance floor, her hair out of its constricting, well, constraints; Garrus next to her doing some awkward turian shuffle. He was getting by; it seemed, by the broad grin on her face. Thane was watching them as well, and I wasn’t at all surprised when he figured in about five point six seconds, “The two have a past of desire.” He coughed. “And a present.”

“Most of the time it’s cute, you know, when you can just observe it from afar. Like now.  Then you live with it, on a frigate…” I sighed, scrubbing wearily at my temples. “If they don’t hurry up and fuck I swear I’ll toss them out the airlock myself.”

Thane chuckled. We came to a halt by the table where John was sitting with a happy Miranda ( _blasphemy_ ), and a ramrod-straight Jacob (hallelujah, father son holy ghost, amen). John straightened up as we approached, eyeing our company and then our new addition. “You’re Thane Krios?” he asked, standing and holding out a hand. “John Shepard. Charlie here is my sister.” He gestured behind him. “We’ve got Miranda’s business taken care of. Her sister is squared away.”

“Miranda has a sister?” I questioned. Instantly her happy face morphed into the ‘bitch I kill you’ mug that her gene-tailoring daddy must have made straight for the ice queen model. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Jacob stared down Thane. “I’ve heard impressive stories, Krios,” he shared, eyes narrowing, arms crossing. “It sounds like you’ll be a valuable asset to the team.” He looked pointedly to Charlie. “That is, if you’re comfortable having an assassin watch your back.”

“Frankly, I’d be more concerned with the Cerberus goons, ah, ‘watching her back’,” I snapped, bringing his eyes to me. “If you can’t take the heat, Taylor, get out of the kitchen- which is funny, because I read your reports and you seem to have done a lot of kitchen-vacating, based on not being able to take the heat. Privateers, Alliance, Cerberus…I’m not sure there’s any more kitchens for you to vacate to.”

“Enough,” said Charlie, but her gaze softened when she looked at me in turn.

“Don’t know about you, but I’m loyal to my next paycheck,” Jacob muttered, scowling at the table to mask his wounded male pride.

“Obviously Thane is too; he’s doing this mission gratis.”

“Uh-huh.”

It was my turn to cross my arms. “What’s your concern?”

“I don’t like mercenaries,” he said to me, pointedly sideways. “An assassin is just a precise mercenary.”

“An assassin is a weapon,” objected Thane, “A weapon does not choose to kill. The one who wields it does.”

Jacob shook his head. I gave him a good stare.

“Where shall we put you?” John piped up, short of raising a hand and saying _remember me?_

“I’d prefer someplace dry,” said Thane. Before he could finish, EDI popped helpfully up on John’s gauntlet. “ _Life Support tends to be slightly more arid than the majority of the ship._ ”

“Ah,” said Thane, eyeing the interface. “An AI. My thanks.” He bowed, slightly, to the hologram, before turning and going to where the rest of our crew had gathered.

EDI remained. “ _He seems civil_ ,” she said, in a voice of EDI-ish approval, and vanished.

“We need all the help we can get on this mission,” Charlie rebuked, looking down again to Jacob. “He’s not what I expected in an assassin,” she added, and was that _interest?_ “He may surprise you.”

“Yeah,” said Jacob, skeptically tossing back his whatever. “And he may not.”

I stared at him. “Wait, that’s right. You could try C-Sec.” I didn’t wait for his answer, just started looking around- chance found me the yellow-plated armor announcing one Zaeed Massani, and I was two steps too close before I realized he was tucked into a shady corner for reasons likely attributable to the woman wrapped around him. The woman- wait, wait a moment.

“Jesus, kid, didn’t anyone ever teach you to-” came the indignant rasp, and then the demeanor changed entirely and it was “Bloody hell, kid, well no I didn’t!” then I was being hugged very tightly by one Jennifer Bond- more oft known by Tomcat- she was known to get pissy when people would giggle and snrk and say “Like _James_ Bond?” (the most recent incarnation currently being played by a turian, I believe, not like it was anything like it used to be, back before they’d started using asari for Bond girls. That Daniel Craig was a fox. I say was with good reason, of course, he was long dead by then.) “Christ, you got big. I think I’ve only ever seen tits like that on an asari matriarch.”

“Ah, right.” I rolled my eyes. “Good to see you in the neighborhood, TC.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed. “I leave you and this fucker-” she jabbed a thumb back at Zaeed. “-alone for a couple months, and now you’re both buddy-buddy on this little suicide squad of yours…bloody fucking hell, I would’ve joined if you’d asked me earlier! I’m wrapped up in business now and this fucker-” again, at Zaeed, “-shows up, tells me he’s off to die and spouts out some confession like you only see in the fucking vids. I’m like a fucking fairytale princess right now. Tie me up in a pink bow and everything.” She paused half a second and reconsidered. “Red silk. Actually, forget it; leave the tying to this fucker.” Again, at Zaeed.

I snorted. “I think I’ll leave you two alone. We can chat later. Via extranet. Some things you just…have to do in person. Like…the tying. I’ll…leave you to it.”

“I’ll bring this fucker back later,” she assured me, shoving the grinning, grizzled Zaeed back into their corner. “Get outta here!”

“Getting thee gone,” I replied, throwing my hands up and returning to the majority of our party. God, but we were so weird. There’s _hearing_ about confused teenage years, and then there’s _living_ it. We were like some god-awful suicidal frat party. The realization that I was experiencing what was essentially the disarrayed adolescence of the _SSV Normandy SR-2_ was unnerving enough, and had me breaking off from the rest, dropping a quick note to the frequency that I was retiring for the night, and walking back to the docks alone.


	17. Another Solution Offered by the Unlikeliest Person Imaginable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second piece of that three-parter I had to split up- enjoy the double update and expect the conclusion soon! Credit, as always, to Bioware.

It was another day before I heard anything on the subject- we departed Omega and headed for Pragia, to blow Jack’s old torture facility to all hell. I walked around in a general bad mood (not angry, per se, just…depressed), picked through my food, declined invitations and spent the day brooding in my room, wondering in spite of myself- who had my parents been running from? Why did they want me? Had they ever made it? Had they ever even meant to get me back, or had that been an empty promise to pacify a frightened child? Nonetheless, I sat up all night, laying on my back and staring at the ceiling, asking, who am I?

The next morning I was summoned to the briefing room, for reasons I couldn’t guess. Had they finally caught on that I was the one who had painted a bright red “LOVE MANKIND” to Miranda’s office door? When I got there, all three Shepards were gathered, joined by a brood-ish Thane, Tali, and Mordin. To my substantial shock, I also saw Joker, leaning against the wall. I might have pretended to stagger onto the handrail and grasp my heart, if Charlie hadn’t unfolded her arms, leaned on it and eyeballed me across the table. “Normally I would say that it wasn’t a major concern, if you hadn’t brought it to me…but I’ve had two different complaints from the crew and one from EDI that you’ve run into a roadblock.”

I stepped back. “That? It’s- Shepard, it’s nothing. I found the OSD. That…should be enough. It’s not like I can just walk into Arcturus station and…” I gestured wildly.

“We talked it over,” Paxton interrupted. “And we agreed- no, we can’t walk into Arcturus. We’re working right now with an acknowledged terrorist group; physically arriving at Alliance command would get us all placed under arrest.”

I stared blankly at them. “So, is that it? You came here to tell me what I already knew, and that is that the trail stops here?” Scowling, I folded my arms.

John offered me half a smile. “There might be an alternative.”

I stopped, gaping. “A what?”

“I’ll take you to Arcturus.” I turned, gaping even wider, seeing Joker at the spot where the voice had come from. Also; he was out of the Cerberus regs, dressed in what looked like a regular pair of jeans, a buttoned shirt and a leather jacket (let it never be said that the men of the Normandy were lacking in leather jackets for their casual wear. Or that Joker was not wearing his hat, because of course he was. I’d be worried about what I’d find under it.)

“You will?” I asked, dumbly, apparently lacking in any more intelligent retorts.

“Yeah,” he said, perhaps similarly incapacitated. “I mean…wanting to know where you come from? That’s a legit question. I…I want to help you, however I can.” Some part of me remembered the foot-in-mouth-putting, and I couldn’t help a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sure thing.”

“We can’t bring the Normandy in,” Charlie continued, “and we can’t use our shuttles, either. They’ve all got Cerberus marked clearly on them. We’ll have to drop you two off somewhere close by; and you’ll catch a shuttle from there.” A map of the Arcturus Stream popped helpfully up. “In Euler, just one system over, there’s a colony on Benning. We’ve confirmed you can ride to Arcturus from there. There’s a shuttle to the station once a week. It’s leaving tomorrow- we’ll drop you off tonight, you can catch it in the morning, and once you’ve finished up we can pick you up back on Benning.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, folding my arms. “ETA?”

“About forty-five minutes,” Paxton shared. “Be ready to go.”

“I will.” I started out of the briefing room. Joker followed me out, and I rounded on him as soon as the doors closed. “Why are you helping me?”

He looked at me, narrow-eyed. “Because I want to?”

“Why?” I pressed. “What are you playing at? Why do you care?”

“Hasn’t anyone helped you before?” He objected. “Just…because they can? Out of the kindness of their hearts?” Instantly, his face fell, as if he’d realized just a moment too late how unnecessary the question was.

“No,” I deadpanned, and went to collect my things.

Benning was a dusty desert metropolis: the night cycle was falling as the shuttle left us at the launch pad; and once we paid for our stay and made the deposit for our passage the next day, we settled into the small hotel room, which resembled a giant steel trap. I flicked the lights on and threw my bag by the table, dropping Joker’s somewhat more ceremoniously on the bedspread.

“I’ll take the couch,” he said, behind me. I turned around, shook my head. “Don’t be an idiot. You crash here, I’ll make do on the couch.”

“Guessing no one’s ever been a gentleman just for the hell of it, either?” he quipped, dryly.

“I’m not the one about to shatter,” I snapped, well and truly done with his prying into the most sensitive pieces of me. When I saw the wounded look in his eyes, I turned back to the couch, perhaps only marginally remorseful. I settled onto the couch, turned out the lights, and laid there quietly in the dark.

“You know why I care?” He said, finally, long into the night. He went on, uncaring of my lack of reply. “Because…no one else does. Not really. No one else ever has. You don’t need a psychologist to see that. No one even gives half of a rip, and…you learn to manage on your own. It makes you stronger, sure. It makes you the best. But…it’s lonely.” Silently, I shifted onto my side, watching him where he was- laid out on his back, hands folded quietly over his stomach. “I know. What that is. The difference between alone and lonely.” He shrugged, minutely, in the dark. “Hell, I don’t know if you’re listening. Just…that’s what it is.” He rolled over, presumably went to sleep, and I laid there in the dark, mulling his words over until morning.

The shuttle to Arcturus arrived in the morning. I flashed the admittance ticket; and Joker his Alliance ID (labeled, DEACTIVATED COMMISSION), and then we were on our way without a hitch.

On the way there, the terminal was showing vids of some sort of sport: players of various species were walking about a green, hitting a small white ball with various assortments of clubs, all adjusted to different physiologies. Joker noticed my quizzical stare, as an asari whacked a ball successfully into a hole marked by a flag, and punched the air with a grin. “What’s that?” I asked him.

“That?” he looked, questioningly, to me. “Oh, it’s…you mean you’ve never seen golf before?” he withered under my sharp look. “…right, Omega, space station, Terminus. Well, it’s a sport, I guess, where you…try to use that club to get the ball into the hole. Invented on Earth- legend has it the letters are an acronym- Gentlemen Only, Ladies Forbidden.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Really now?

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Either that; or they needed a four-letter word, and fuck was already taken.”

I snorted, shaking my head, and we flew on to the station; a five-kilometer behemoth of steel and flashing lights. I stepped inside the loading area, looking around at all of the restaurants and people waiting for their flights. “You were born here?”

“Born and raised,” he confirmed, “Before I headed off to flight academy. It’s a great little station.”

“Little?”

“Well, it’s not all about size,” he scoffed, “You’ve gotta have firepower too.”

“All right,” I drawled, “How about lunch?”

We got our lunch and sat at one of the tables, where we took turns questioning the insensitive bits of past. “I don’t get it; she called you Joker because you never joked?”

“No time for joking, if you were working hard like me,” he retorted, “I was the cripple kid. But I was the best, even better than the instructors. And they knew it. One guess who was smiling at graduation.”

I grinned. “Oh. That’s a tough one.”

“Yeah, figures.” He pilfered another of my fries, and I sent a halfhearted glare his way. Hard to be honestly irritated with that face he made; the part of the gleeful schoolboy. “So, what’d you do when you were a kid?”

“Me?” I shrugged. “Stole from vendors. Played biotiball in the alleys. Anything to survive, really. I got into brokering information when I was…thirteen, fourteen? Anyway, I could handle a gun before that, Tomcat made sure of it, but I went to Kahje to train with Thane when I was sixteen. I was there a few months, and then I went back. I could break into people’s houses, then, that’s when business really took off.” I sat back a little. “Ten years, I lived that way…then I joined this suicidal frat ship, and the rest is history.”

“Frat ship?” he scoffed, sitting up straighter, eyes narrowing at me with a playful grin. “The _Normandy_ is not a _frat ship._ She’s only the finest vessel in the galaxy, thank you very much.”

“Uh-huh.” I took a drink out of my straw, eyeballing him over the rim. “Wouldn’t trade her for anything?”

“Nope,” he confirmed, sitting back against the chair and crossing his arms.

“Riches beyond compare? True love? The _Destiny Ascension?_ ”

He shook his head, looked off to the side. “What good is true love? I mean, sure, everybody dreams of it when we’re young and then…you know, you get old enough and you start to wonder if it’ll ever hit you.” He paused. “Or it does, and then it turns out to be more trouble than it’s worth. Look at John and Kaidan.” He shrugged.

I shrugged back. “They might yet work it out. Don’t give up on them yet.”

Joker drummed his fingers on the table. “Yeah. Sure.”

I leaned on the table, peering under the brim of his cap and narrowing my eyes. “Have you had your heart broken, Mr. Moreau?”

He determinedly eyed the table. “I’ve never even had the chance,” he muttered. “People don’t…I’m fragile. Not just physically, but…well, the physically kind of feeds the emotionally. I’m a piece of work. I don’t...fall…often. But when I do-” he mimed a crash landing, complete with cartoonish whistling sound. “-I do it fast, and…completely. It’s a bad combination. You’d think we’d learn…not to play fast with our emotions.” He shook his head, chuckling almost bitterly.

I watched him, quiet.

“What about you?” he asked. “Have you ever…had someone?”

I folded my arms on the table, rested my chin on them. “Once,” I confessed, with a slight smile. “There was…an asari, once. Her name was Nanra. She was young. A maiden. She came to Omega to dance at Afterlife. That was how we met, actually, we danced together in the VIP section and- well, we went home together that night, and the next morning we got to talking. We loved a lot of the same things. Similar, in a lot of ways. Different, in others. She was an idealist, you know, without being an airhead about it.” I smiled, painting the picture of her in my mind’s eye. “Anyway, we moved in together. We talked about getting off Omega, getting married. Little blue girls.” I looked aside, suddenly smiling bitterly. “Anyway. An infiltration went bad one day. I got shot. When she visited me at the clinic she told me…she couldn’t handle a relationship, knowing one day I was going to die and she was going to be here for another eight centuries.” I sighed. “And that was how it ended. Typical, really, for Omega. Just…hurt.”

Joker regarded me for a long time before asking, “I never really…do you…?” he waved an obscure gesture. “I mean, like…”

“Women?” I shrugged. “Sometimes. I’ll go for anyone. I can appreciate beauty, aesthetically, in all its forms. Hell, sometimes I wonder if I’m not picky enough.” I snorted. “But yeah. I…I fall for people, not…gender. Race. Whatever.”

Joker just nodded at me. I grabbed for my drink and he for his, and we didn’t talk for a while- in fact, the next words were spoken by an Alliance officer that stopped at our table.

“Mr. Moreau, and guest?” the officer asked. When we nodded, exchanging a brief look. “We tracked your arrival. You’ve been referred to Admiral Hackett. Will you come with me?”

We traded another look. “Uh, sure?” he said, getting up and heading off with me to the officers’…well, offices. The officer led us down the halls, stopping at the end of the hall, at the door labeled ADM S HACKETT.

The door opened. The officer and Joker both snapped off a salute, and I looked between the both of them before settling to stand straighter. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” The officer nodded, and hurried off.

Admiral Hackett eyeballed us both, before gesturing to the chairs before his desk. “Sit, you two.” He was older than me, by a lot, and he rang with authority that he obviously never had to reinforce. We both sat down. “I got a tip you were here looking for something, and Shepard might have sent you.”

Joker and I exchanged a look. He folded his hands, and eyed me. “Cerberus or not…whatever’s up…Shepard’s still a hero’s name. Your friend here, if you weren’t aware, brought the Fifth Fleet in, saved the Council and bought us a spot two years ago, for what good it did.”

“I know,” I said, softly.

He sat back. “What’s your name?”

I blinked. “Glenn.”

He watched me a moment, then he powered on his terminal. “I’m going to get my lunch. I’ll be back seven minutes later. I’m leaving my user open until then.” He got up, and walked out of the room without further announcement. “You’ll be gone when I get back.”

The door shut behind him.

Joker was watching the door, mouth agape, but I wasted no time in cracking his files and seeing what he’d left up: _success,_ I could have hissed aloud, seeing what was open: _Alliance Protection Program; entry 2061, standard Earth year CE 2164. Client: Nathan Glenn._

“What’s it say?” Joker questioned, peering over my shoulder, once he had reconciled his current and past image of Admiral Hackett.

“That can’t be right,” I murmured. “It’s…it’s the right year. It’s the right name. But his wife can’t have been my mother. It says here she’s an asari.” I scrolled down, and halted in my tracks. “It has a Cerberus facility listed,” I said, a sudden cold washing over my veins. “They…that’s who they were running from. That’s who they were trying to keep me from.”

Joker was silent over my shoulder. “We’ll talk to the Illusive Man,” he said. “He’d better have some answers.”

I shook my head, violently. “No. No. He would…he would deny everything. Spin a bunch of lies. We need to go there. The coordinates are listed; we’ll get the answers at the source.” I uploaded them to my omni-tool.

“Does it say where he is now?” he asked me.

I looked. Then, I shook my head. “No. This program wouldn’t be doing its job if it did.” I got hurriedly out of the seat, and headed again for the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”


	18. Unsettling Answers, Disquieting Solutions, and Taxing Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, I lied. Guess it's going to be a four-parter. Credit to Bioware, enjoy people. :)

The station, labeled on my omni-tool simply as _Mateo Cell Facility: Project Mentis,_ wouldn’t have showed up on any conventional scanners. Likely dark, Joker shared, looking concernedly at me up from his chair, whilst I leaned on the back of it. Then again, it could always be hiding under the radar- still active. When we drew nearer, however, all systems were confirmed to be offline by EDI. As I pulled on my recon hood, for use in zero-oxygen environments, I told him, “We won’t be long. We’ll find what we need, get right back out, and be on our way.”

Joker grabbed for me as I left, establishing a surprisingly solid grip on my wrist. “Hey…be careful in there, all right?”

I almost said something sarcastic; but the concern in his eyes couldn’t have been faked by the most gifted of actors- so I briefly squeezed his hand, said, “I’ll try,” and walked to the airlock. His hand slid from mine with something like reluctance.

Charlie and Thane met me at the airlock, Mordin and Tali joining us a second later. “Big group,” I remarked.

“It’s a Cerberus facility,” Charlie said, putting her helmet on. “Even if it’s coming up dead; we don’t know what could be in there.”

“Good luck,” said Paxton, from the side, and I turned to see no less than almost half the crew gathered to see us off. So sue me, I didn’t know what to say to that. “Thanks.”

We entered the facility slowly; carefully. The lights flickered on with a dull buzz as they sensed our movements, and I realized looking at everyone behind me I was meant to lead the way.

“This must have been another of the Cerberus cells,” Charlie said, a ways in, looking at the _Mateo_ that was painted periodically on the walls, next to the familiar symbol. “It doesn’t look like there’s much left of them.”

“The question is, what was Project Mentis aiming to achieve?” Thane spoke, rasp dying into the silence. I almost winced; hearing the notable grating tones in his voice, absent ten years ago. Two syllables. Two syllables to put name to his mortality.

The first thing we encountered was a room. There was a table with the unmistakable shape of a human skeleton laid out upon it. Slowly, we gathered round the table, eyeing the equipment surrounding it and the unfortunate fate of its last patient.

“Human,” judged Mordin, “female. Skull abnormalities suggest experimentation.” I stepped closer, lifted the head and examined the spikes that seemed to be growing out of the back. “Problematic,” he added, uneasily. I nodded once in affirmation, heart thumping. _Is this where I’m from? Anyone would run from this, but why would they want me? Was I next?_

I turned, spotted a terminal. Part of me, now, didn’t want to. I was so close, and it seemed the closer I got the less I wanted to know. But I had to. I had to, to…to stop the night terrors, the wondering, to let me sleep again.

I powered it on. I recognized the face of my father, clearly in Cerberus science department gear, and almost staggered back. The others looked as it began to play: “ _Phase One of Project Mentis so far has seen little progress. Our efforts to endow humans with asari biotics, longevity, and fine mental-genetic selection capabilities, at least, by our current methods, has failed. Genetic tailoring has proved unsuccessful in test subjects one through six- the body rejects the new traits and results in a hemorrhage of the brain. We’ll move now into Phase Two; in-vitro genetic tailoring._ ” His picture cut off.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “Disgusting bastards,” I spat, “They were experimenting with our genetic code. Trying to add the best of the asari to our DNA.” I looked back to the unlucky test subject, and examined the skull again. “It obviously didn’t work in grown adults. This is probably an attempt to create the asari crest. Instead of growing out of cartilage, it deformed the bone.” I shook my head, letting the skull drop. “Pointless. Pointless waste of life. These…these sick _bastards._ ”

Charlie stepped forward. “Are you okay?”

I looked to the floor, shaking my head disgustedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Come on, I…I still have to find out how I fit into all of this. Now, at least, I know why my father was involved. He was at the head of this clusterfuck.” I shook my head again. “Let’s go.”

In the next research chamber, there were more chairs, more skeletons, and tubes filled with fluid, lining the wall.

“The logs mentioned in-vitro genetic tailoring…” Tali started.

“Then these were the test-tubes were they kept their test subjects.” I stepped forward to the terminal, pushed the play, and watched as the log popped up. “… _seeing better progress in Phase Two. Test subjects are grown properly, as far as we can tell, in the stasis tubes. Brain activity is impossible to discern, as the test subjects cannot be kept alive like so. By the numbers, Phase Three should proceed successfully if we implement the same procedure while having the fetus carried to term._ ”

I crossed my arms, bowing my head and collecting myself for a good long moment. “I have a feeling where this all is going,” I said, finally, “And I don’t like it.” I waited a long while, in the silence, but at last I straightened up. “I’m going to chase this to the end. Let’s get moving.” _Be careful in there,_ I heard, in one ear, and the concerned grip of a hand on my wrist, spelling out the letters into my skin, _please come back to me; don’t become someone else before I see you again._

It took a long trek; trial and error before we found the head researcher’s office: labeled in faded letters next to the Cerberus logo, Dr. Nathan Glenn. There was still an old terminal on his desk, and I sat down in the old, creaking seat to power it on. It took a moment, but a few logs finally showed: four of them, each dated 2158- save one, which was labeled as being recorded six years later, in 2164.

With trepidation, I played the first.

“ _Phase Three is scheduled to begin any day now,_ ” my father related, excitedly. _“Test subject 82n has been found- my own wife volunteered our child. Ours! She’s going to be the first success of Project Mentis; the future of humanity. With my own name. I couldn’t be prouder, and more excited to begin this._ ”

I shook my head. I played the second.

In this one, he seemed almost conflicted, hesitating before he spoke. “ _So far Phase Three is proceeding without a hitch. Test subject 82n has carried so far to mid-term, and all processes are recorded as normal. I…”_ he paused, for a long time. “ _The numbers are right, I know, but I keep checking. What if it goes wrong? I just…this is my daughter. What if…what if we’re wrong to be trying this? What if she’s alone, what if she lives alone because of something I did, before she had a choice in the matter? Should we have stuck to Phase One, or…”_ he trailed off, shaking his head. “ _I don’t know. I don’t…”_ he stopped. Shook his head again, and cut the feed.

My fists clenched on the table. “No shit,” I growled, to his ghost. “It only took you until your own fucking daughter to realize it. And I don’t even know… _what_ it is you did to me, you _left_ me before I could ever find out.” I seethed there, feeling like I was about to shockwave something across the room, and took a few deep breaths before playing the third log.

My father, by now almost a familiar sight, cropped onto the screen- looking tired, beaten, proud. “ _My daughter was born just this morning. November first, 2158. She’s a healthy human baby girl. I…our scanners are reading biotic manifestation off the charts…we didn’t get the cellular metabolism, and everyone else is already taking down data, hypothesizing how to make that happen- expand, maybe, on the mental connectivity and the selective breeding capabilities, next time._ ” He stopped, swallowed, and shook his head. “ _I’m just glad she was born safe. She…she’s so beautiful. She looks like me._ ” he stopped, and he smiled, bleary-eyed, at the screen. “ _Her name is Mary._ ”

There was a long stretch after, wherein he confessed his worries, doubting his ability to continue the project…I heard none of it but the roaring in my ears, saw none of it for the blurring of my eyes. I was glad for the hood to hide my tears.

“Remarkable,” Mordin said, in the softest of voices, as the databanks popped back up. “Asari embryo tailored to human fetus by birth. Despicable. But remarkable.”

I shook my head, bitterly. “Now I know.” I folded my hands, closed my eyes tightly and rested my forehead on folded hands. “I was a science experiment. A test subject. I was 82n, right up until I was born.” I lifted my head, and looked at the last entry, half-wishing I could forget it was there. “I was supposed to be born asari. It’s…it explains everything. My biotics…” I trailed off, couldn’t even finish; _my attraction to everything with a pulse, my brains, my allure. All tied up in experiments; before I even knew I was alive._

“There’s one more,” said Thane, perhaps a gentle reminder. Of course; this was the man who had urged me always to find the truth.

Dreading what I would find; I played the fourth.

The fourth featured- not my father, but a man in Cerberus armor- standing in the room, ravaged like it was now. “ _Nathan Glenn took test subject 82n and wiped all data from Project Mentis’ databanks. He cut ties with the organization and fled. Current location unknown. All Mateo Cell operatives have been integrated into other cells. Jinore T’Lassita was tracked down and terminated. Test subject 82n tracked to Omega- orders from the Illusive Man are to leave her alone. Trying to extract her could prove dangerous. For now, we observe her, track her growth, and perhaps approach at a later age. Cerberus out._ ” the log flickered away and died.

I sat, dully, for a long while, at the table. “Guess now I know how Cerberus found me,” I said, the bitter taste on my tongue making me want to gag. “They never lost me.”

“Are you all right?” Charlie asked me, gently.

I stood up, shrugging. “How ‘all right’ can I be? I was supposed to be an asari. I…I don’t even know what I am now. I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know what to believe.” I started for the door. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll be happy to never see this place again.” I led the others out back the way we came, and as we stood in the airlock being decontaminated, I said softly, almost only to myself: “I didn’t change. I just learned.”


	19. A Testament to Kind Hearts, and the Impregnable Fortresses that Often Surround Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the final bit of what I call the "Glenn loyalty mission" subplot. A bit of fluffy goodness in this one, and next chapter it's back to business. Credit to Bioware. Enjoy!

The next days were spent trying to wrap my head around this news: _Glenn, the pseudo-asari. Should-have-been-asari. Whatever the fuck I call this._ The others gave me my space; and ménage à Shepard began to occupy everyone’s time with more missions: tracking the sonofabitch that betrayed Garrus’ men to their deaths, investigating ten year old distress calls from the ship Jacob’s father was last stationed on, stealing back Kasumi’s partner’s graybox and chasing down Vido Santiago. In fact, I think I went a few days without even saying a word, and in hindsight I understood why everyone else might have been worried. At any rate, maybe it was a week before Joker approached me in the early morning, intercepting my route to the coffee machine (and before I could so much as snarl feral-ly, he held up his hands to stop me. “Hey. I don’t…know if this’ll be any use to you. If you’ll even want to…” he sighed, nodding at my _get on with it_ eyebrows (I had a very short patience for people who were pushing coffee time back). “I…did a bit of digging. Well…your mother’s name was Jinore T’Lassita, right? I ran the name in the records of several major asari population hubs, and…” he showed me the file on an omni-tool. “She has family, on Illium. A mother, it looks like.”

I read the name. _Nala T’Lassita._

“I didn’t know if it’d be any use to you,” he finished, uncomfortably. “I just thought…maybe, if you could talk to someone…I don’t know. Forget I said anything.”

Suddenly, my voice was working again. “No, no.” And _wow,_ who knew not talking for a week could make you go from snarky loudmouth to chain smoker in no time at all? I caught his wrist, as he started to walk/shuffle/limp off. “No, I…I didn’t even think there’d be anyone…”

He stared back at me, blinking. “It’s the asari,” he said, “They live for a thousand years.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling my ears start to burn. “Yeah, I…stupid, really, look, I’m kind of shitty, okay?”

That made him stop entirely, and look at me with a wide-eyed confusion.

“Look, yeah, I’m a shitty person. I’m a piping hot mess, genetically, emotionally, socially, and…that’s never really going to change.” I sighed, letting him go. “I…don’t know how to deal with people being nice to me, because all my life, the most of what I got was poison. And now I’m here, and…I don’t know how lucky I am for these people, I admit that. I don’t know…how lucky I am to have met you. You…insist on helping me, even when I’m kind of a bitch about it. A lot of a bitch.” I looked at the name on the file, and took a deep breath. “I don’t know how I would have dealt with this even six months ago.” I shook my head. “Face it, I never would’ve even gotten this far without you, and everyone…but I’m ready to get this over with and focus on the mission.” I looked up to him. “Thanks.”

He stared at me a moment, hands moving eclectically like two parts of him were warring desperately, one side in favor of doing the thing and the other desperately against it. “Yeah,” he finally croaked, nodded once, almost to himself, and made his way off to the bridge again.

I looked once more to the file. _Nala T’Lassita._ I had family.

As it turned out, Liara T’Soni had need of help with some problem, and we headed back to Illium soon after that. Once we were en route I found Nala T’Lassita and shot her a message over secure channels, sharing my name and asking if we could meet at Eternity at an appropriated time. My reply was short; a simple _Yes, I will be there._

Joker stopped to stare when I passed near the bridge, bound for the airlock- I’d abandoned the typical leather coat and boot-camp-ish attire for a leather dress and heels, afforded to me by a Kasumi, who had enjoyed dolling me up entirely too much.

“That’s…different,” he said, appearing to be trying quite hard not to swallow his tongue.

“For sure,” I muttered, trying to tug the skirt down, feeling like if I even tried to walk it was going to hike up to my waist and flash my underwear to no less than all of Nos Astra. As I opened the doors, his eyes switched from goggling to something like soft concern; a look I was growing almost accustomed to. “You want me to come with you? Or…someone? Just, for moral support?”

I shook my head. “That’s sweet,” I told him, “But this is a family matter. I have to do this alone.”

He nodded at me, turned back to the window ahead of him, and relaxed into the chair with a small sigh. I left him there, that nameless expression in his green eyes burned into the back of my head as I started on my way.

I drew the attention of the few and the many on my way downtown, but my mind was already preparing itself, trying to quell the rapid thumping of my heart and calm down, marginally. I entered Eternity, looked around until I saw an asari matriarch catching my eye from one of the back tables. I went that way, sat, asked, “Nala T’Lassita?”

She nodded. “You must be Mary Glenn.”

I winced. “Just…Glenn, usually.”

“I see.” She folded her hands. “I was…surprised to be hearing from you. After all that happened…” she shook her head, with a small, sad sigh. “Well, Nathan has been gone for more than twenty years, and I had thought maybe you had gone with him.”

I shook my head, with a scowl. “He dropped me off on Omega. I don’t know what he was trying to do…his video logs say he was trying to make a switch of some sort, fool Cerberus. He told me he’d be back, he promised that…I remember that much. Anyway, he never did come back, and I grew up on Omega.” Nala shook her head, sadly. “I did go once to the hanar homeworld, Kahje, and trained under a drell warrior. I turned information broker, anyway; agent, broker, and coordinator, and I made my way like that for ten years. Then, I joined a mission…” I took a deep breath. “…it’s…high risk. And, well, I wanted to sort this out before I went. Who I am; who my family was.”

Nala nodded slowly to me. “Of course,” she said, “What would you like to know?”

I thought for a moment. “Well…I know almost nothing. Maybe, just…start from the beginning?”

Nala nodded at me. “Well…Jinore met Nathan here on Nos Astra. It was a whirlwind romance, even for a maiden, and they were married soon, pregnant not long after that.” She sighed, her hands working slowly. “She was hesitant, at first, to volunteer for the project. But Nat was persistent- he told her that it wouldn’t hurt the child, would only change the way she looked, and they would love their little girl no matter how she looked, wouldn’t they? She caved under pressure. He had a natural charisma, Nathan Glenn. I can see a lot of it- a lot of him- in you.” I looked down to my hands, unsure how to react.

“Have you heard from him since Jinore died?” I instead asked, quietly.

She shook her head, mouth turning even further down at the corners. “Jinore was so young to die. Barely even nearing a matron…” she sighed. “She barely even knew her father…he was a salarian, you know; Dantus Laun. He used to be STG.”

“Really?” I asked. “I’m working with another ex-STG operative, on my current team. Name of Mordin Solus.”

“Is he really…?” suddenly, she smiled. “It’s good Mordin is looking after you. Dantus was one of his dearest friends.”

I laughed, suddenly. “Really?” she nodded, smiling wider. “Small galaxy, am I right?”

“Well, tell him I said hello,” Nala said, folding her hands, nodding. She looked me over, eyes narrowing, then spoke once more. “I have to…rephrase, what I said just now. You do resemble your father, but you remind me of Jinore too. You have her eyes.” I blinked. “She would have been proud of you. Proud of what you’ve become. What you’re fighting for.” She reached across the table, patted my hand. “Good luck on your mission,” she told me. “And know that you always have a family on Nos Astra.”

When I returned to the _Normandy_ later that night, after grabbing a shower and changing into something a bit more comfortable, I padded into the mess to find a snack and then up to Mordin, who happily regaled me with the many stories of Dantus Laun and his tendency to make things explode (much better suited to robotics engineering than xenobiology, he assured me). “No small wonder you’re brilliant,” he said, then paused, added almost sheepishly, “Brilliant on own merits, as well.”

The next few days I slept better than I could ever remember having done, found myself seeing things in everyone I’d never noticed before, reasons (or, for some people, _more_ reasons) to like them. I even warmed up to the ones I’d dismissed at first, started seeing good things everywhere, realized it was a beautiful world and maybe Charles was right to fight so hard to protect it. Maybe a few people were a bit scared by the sudden change (mostly Zaeed, I think, who gave me suspicious looks and then glared at Mordin as if he’d concluded that some of his fumes had fucked with my brain chemistry). I think it was the fact that I realized that, all along, I really _did_ have a family. Okay, and that was so disgustingly sappy I’m going to stop now.

And the truth was, I pretty much owed it to Joker; the kind heart who closed said kindness in an impregnable fortress of sarcasm, who allowed himself small vulnerabilities around me. The more I mulled it over, the more it stirred something, something I didn’t entirely understand or recognize; something mildly frightening but dangerously addictive.

It was perhaps a week and a half into this new life perspective that found me sitting at Mordin’s table, observing culture samples with him. He glanced at me a few times, before coughing slightly to harness my attention, and rest his hands on his edge of the table. “Glenn. Wanted to talk, actually, ah…medical matters.” He coughed again. “Aware that mission is dangerous. Different species react differently to stress. Your response…possibly confused, with altered DNA sequence.” He paused, pacing slightly. “Aware that you…come around a great deal. Sexual activity normal stress release for humans _and_ asari…”

“Wait, hold on a moment,” I held up a hand, grinning. “You’re yanking my chain.”

“What? Never!” Mordin mock-scoffed, though I hear right through his façade. “Doctor-patient trust sacred; would never dream of breaking it!” he returned to his culture samples, now smiling again. “Enjoy yourself while possible, Glenn. Meanwhile, will remain here and run tests on culture samples. Requires less alcohol and mood music.”

“Right,” I chuckled, but something suddenly dawned on me then, and I repeated, softer, “Right.”

Sudden epiphanies aside; I, as the pragmatist, am not the person to share them immediately after they happen. I gave myself a day to think, mull over Mordin’s words and my own feelings- wondering if I was ready for this, if it was worth the potential embarrassment and heartache to go through, and finally deciding _screw it, we’ll all be dead anyway._ So at midday, the next day, I marched straight up to the bridge and proceeded to make friendly conversation until I felt the time was right to spring the trap.

All right, so that was a bad analogy. Pull the trigger. No, that’s worse. Anyway, what I _said_ was, “Right, so…Mordin made an excellent point yesterday.”

Joker smirked out the window, shaking his head in mock-trepidation. “Uh-oh. Here it comes.”

“Well, he reminded me…this mission’s a little, ah, high risk.”

“A little, eh?”

“And that, well, we might want to…enjoy the time we have left,” I pressed on, ignoring his sarcastic commentary, knowing it to be an automatic response by now. “You know, one more drink before the war. One last fling. That kind of thing.”

“Ah,” Joker said, head rolling to look my way, eyebrows migrating north. “So, you’re gonna go after Jacob, then? You might have to fight Kasumi for him- EDI, be sure to get pictures of that-”

“My protocols do not include recording physical altercations between crewmates, Mr. Moreau,” said the globe to his left, glinting disapprovingly.

Joker paused, gave the winking hologram a dirty look. “Yeah, remind me how you get the latest gossip on Garrus and Pax, then.” There was no answer from the interface, and he turned back to me. “That’s what I thought. Anyway, even if it came to that he probably wouldn’t be interested. Nothing personal, but I feel like the man’s got a hard-on for good old military can-do. Word around scuttlebutt says he’s carrying a torch for the commander.”

“Charles?” I paused to consider it, shook my head. “Nah, that won’t last. Besides, you seen the looks she and Thane give each other? I’m surprised her panties haven’t caught fire yet.”

“The way you say ‘yet’…” he trailed off with a soft, almost quirky smile, looking back to the endless expanse of space before us, perhaps, to hide it. It gave me courage.

“Well- when Mordin said that, the first person I thought of…” I hesitated, rapping nervously on the armrest. “Well, it wasn’t Jacob Taylor.” He looked back at me, and that only made it harder. “I…I actually thought of you.”

“Me?” He looked genuinely shocked.

“Yeah,” I said, gaining a little bit of traction. “Yeah. I mean, underneath the whole fragile bones thing, and the never shutting up, and the ball cap perpetually glued to your head; you’re actually kind of a sexpot.”

Joker sat staring at the final frontier for a good while, speechless, before turning to EDI. “Am I dreaming?”

“Unlikely, Mr. Moreau. Your brain waves are not indicative of rapid eye movement.”

“Nope, not a dream,” he muttered, turning back to me. “You’re…you’re serious?”

I nodded, picking at the seam of my gloves. “Yeah.”

He cocked his head at me, looking back to the interface before him. “You’ve got odd tastes.”

“What, can’t take a compliment?” I poked, “You seem perfectly fine giving them to yourself in troves.”

“If this is a joke,” he sounded cautious, “It’s stopped being funny.”

“It’s not a joke, Jok-” I stopped, irritated at the repetition of the root word, reminded that English was indeed a flawed language. “It’s not a joke…Jeff. I meant all of it. There’s no use in something like this if you don’t at least marginally care about the person you’re considering it with. I care about you. I…I trust you.” I swallowed. When he looked at me, I felt put on the spot. That is, seeker swarms pinging around in my stomach, bouncing off the lining of my digestive tract. “You’re…decent. I haven’t seen a lot of that, in my life.”

He kept my eyes, for a long, awkward silence.

“So…you’re propositioning me,” he said, still not quite certain I was serious.

“I’m propositioning you,” I agreed, hoping that the heat of a thousand suns I was feeling did not translate into a ferocious blush.

He thought a moment. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “Yeah, I mean…if you’re up for it. I’m not the most…flexible guy, for obvious reasons.” He turned his head to me. “But if you want to do this…I’m okay with it. I’m more than okay with it.”

“I’ll do my research,” I promised, feeling suddenly elated, realizing too late I was probably grinning like a turian with his mandibles chopped off. “I’m good at that. It’s what I do for a living, remember?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “yeah, right, that. So, ah, I’ll…see you? Around?” I was halfway out of my seat and pointed towards the CIC.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding so furiously my hair bounced. “Yeah, I mean, relatively small ship-”

“Right-”

“Good chance of running into each other-”

“Just thought, you know, I’m up here all the time-”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, him with his chair facing out to me. “See you,” I finished, somewhat lamely, starting my walk down to the CIC, hesitating when I heard the creak of an abandoned chair behind me. I turned, in enough time to see him arrive in front of me, wearing the face of ‘I’m going to do the thing and no one will stop me’, toss aside the cap I had literally just said was glued to his head, and dip me more capably than I would have guessed in a millennium (yet another reason to add to Why Glenn is Not an Asari Matriarch and Why it is Inadvisable Anyway).

Once I got over the initial shock, it was…nice. His beard scratching was a new sensation, and his nose bumped a little with mine- he had me good, about the waist and right on the side of my face, thumb stroking lightly across the slight protrusion of my cheekbone. I hadn’t been kidding about the sexpot thing; and now that he was holding me like this and kissing me like this- I don’t think anyone could have helped going a little weak in the knees.

Luckily, he let me go before I could fall over like the complete oaf I knew I was, releasing my lips with an audible smack. He stared at me as we were for a moment, as if he’d suddenly remembered himself, then straightened us up and let me go with a light pat on the hip. Clearing his throat, he repeated: “See you.” He walked the few steps back to his seat, went carefully down and turned back to the interface. I could swear he looked smugger than usual, altogether quite pleased with himself, but it could have been a simple trick of the light. Smug was, after all, a common look on him.

As for me, I touched absently at my lips, as if I’d been wondering unconsciously if they’d changed shape or started sprouting four-leaf clovers since he’d been there. I wasn’t quite sure if he’d been trying to count my fillings or lick my tonsils- whatever it was, made me certain this was a good idea. Well, maybe not a good idea, per se, but definitely something worth repeating. As I walked down the bridge, I encountered his hat, which had skidded down the runway at his careless discarding of it. I bent to pick it up, looked once more back down to the chair, and then went on my way with my trophy in hand, cheerfully humming the Star Trek theme.


	20. An Awry Investigation brings Focus to the Subject of One’s Own Mortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep the chapters coming, Charlie, I'm on a roll today. Credit to Bioware, and enjoy.

Two such investigations occurred; the first being Thane finally being forthcoming with his cause of (coming) death; that being Kepral’s, the bane of the drell existence. At any rate, he was the last one to finally come forward and ask for help with his last loose ends: his son, Kolyat- and this bit of news, even more than Mordin’s old student conducting inhumane experiments in efforts to end the genophage and Grunt insisting I was his _krantt_ and had to come kill a thresher maw with him- was deeply upsetting. I remembered Kolyat as a cheerful ten-year-old boy, bluish-green, with scabby knees, who had helped me with my exercises. Now, as I had to constantly remind myself, he would be twenty, a young man, and as Thane informed Charlie and me, working as a _hit_ man.

“So you’re planning to go stop him?” I crossed my arms. “Because if that’s the case, I’m coming with. I knew him too. I want to put a stop to this.”

Thane looked to Charlie, who looked to me, and nodded. “All right. We’d better get to the Citadel, then.”

Stopping Kolyat actually didn’t take too much effort, beyond talking to a duct rat informant, conducting the shortest interrogation ever (and I quote, “I’m a Spectre. Start talking.”), tracking his target (a racist turian running for office with a Blood Pack krogan tailing him), and then walking into the apartment, shooting a lamp to distract him, and knocking his gun aside. He likely didn’t recognize me, but it was all right. In the end I schmoozed Captain Bailey into giving him community service for attempted murder, and he and Thane had a good heart-to-heart (that no one was privy to.) I asked him later how things were going with him, he told me: “It is difficult.” I finished for him: “All things worth keeping are.” And then Charlie arrived, and the amount of eyefucking in the room went up to off the charts, and I left the two alone.

The second investigation came later. That was when Charlie summoned us to the briefing room, and informed us that a Collector ship had been disabled by a turian patrol, and we were en route to check it out.

I put my hand up first. “’Scuse, Charles, a _Collector_ ship? Pardon me, but that thing’s lasers cut through the _Normandy_ SR-1 like a hot knife through butter. You seriously think a turian patrol could have disabled it?”

“There’s few hull breaches read,” she replied. “But the ship’s systems are offline.”

I leaned grimly on the handrail, scowling. There were other voices of dissent following mine, mostly discrediting the overall truth of any sort of wind departing the Illusive Man (“Even his godam farts are lies.”) Still, Charlie put her foot down, and told us we were all going.

We found the vessel floating about in space, seemingly dead, as promised- not that I was about to start listening to TIM for this- so I simply watched on the bridge as we approached the ship, tight-lipped and scowling, hands folded firmly behind my back.

Jeff shot me a glance from his chair. “You’re all right?”

“Yeah,” I said, distractedly. “Yeah. I could kick anything’s ass. Except…there’s no asses here, apparently, needing kicking, and that alone seems doubtful.” I shook my head. “The whole thing just seems wrong.”

“It _is_ the Collectors,” he said.

“Yeah.” Again, I murmured. “Probably just my nerves.” I let my hands go, rubbed them together, and turned down to him. “I’ll be back.”

“Course you will,” he said, with a soft smile that I bent to kiss off his lips. It was a soft cough from near the airlock that had me standing up and realizing the rest of the team had assembled.

“Gotta go,” I whispered, and squeezed his hand (albeit gently) one more time.

“Joker?” Kasumi asked me as I joined the ranks of the Bravos (wearing the red star, this round). “And you?” she grinned, from beneath the depths of the shadows of her hood. “That’s sweet.”

“We’ll talk more later,” I told her, “Too many warm fuzzies and I might not kill the Collectors hard enough.”

Our squads boarded the Collector vessel, and stopped to coordinate as Delta pushed ahead, tailed closely by Omaha; us bringing up the rear.

The comm channel was open the whole time; but there was no chatter- the eerie, oppressive silence of the place slid through the veins like a subtle disease, lacing fear into your entire being until there was nothing left but the heavy drums of your heartbeat. Finally, there was word from Paxton, a gusty “ _Holy shit._ ”

“Come in, Delta?” John chimed in, immediately, at the forefront of our firing squad.

“ _Well, your conclusion on experimentation seems likely; we found a pile of discarded humans. But…we found this…tank, sort of thing- the Collectors were experimenting on their own. EDI ran a scanner, and, well…the Protheans didn’t disappear. The Reapers indoctrinated them, enslaved them- the Collectors_ are _the Protheans._ ”

I took in a huge breath. “Of course,” I murmured. “The Reapers take humans and turn them into husks the same way…who’s to say they didn’t do that to the Protheans? Taking their own and turning them against them…their footsoldiers.” A sudden chill settled over me.

“ _Whatever they were, gone,”_ came Mordin, from Delta’s frequency. “ _Lost intelligence over several cloned generations. As body systems failed, Reapers added tech to compensate. Protheans are no more; Collectors, just final insult. No culture, no art; species is dead. Must be stopped.”_

“ _There’s a pile of weapons up here- looks like a revenant machine gun, a Widow sniper rifle- god damn, the recoil on this Claymore would break a human arm,_ ” Paxton came in again. _“These weapons can’t be handled by humans, that’s for sure. Just hefting them would give someone a hernia, you’d hyperextend your elbow trying to fire them._ ”

“ _Shotgun goes to Grunt, then,_ ” came in Charlie, from Omaha. _“Garrus can have the Widow. Save the revenant for me. I doubt that recoil will be an issue with Cerberus’ upgrades._ ”

“ _We’ll leave those, then.”_

Garrus chimed in a moment later. _“Oh, she’s damned beautiful._ ”

At that, I couldn’t resist quipping, “ _What, the rifle, or your fire team leader?_ ”

I could practically _hear_ his neck turning blue over the silent channels, and smirked at my snickering teammates, before Charlie came in again. “ _All right, enough. Focus on the mission. Delta, are you nearing the command center?_ ”

“ _Yeah,_ ” breathed Paxton, sounding dazed. “ _But Omaha, Bravo, get your asses up here. You’ve got to see this._ ”

“ _Acknowledged, Delta. On our way to your location._ ”

We passed the weapons pile (by now just the Claymore, which Grunt picked gleefully up and cradled close like a precious child), and followed the coordinates to the other two team locations- a vast hall that opened up all around us- and stopped, gaping.

“Holy shit,” I said.

“How many humans do you think are in these pods?” Paxton asked, turning to the arriving teams.

“Too many,” muttered John, darkly.

Jack looked around the vaulted ceilings, craning her neck. “They couldn’t fill all of these if they took every colonist in the Terminus.”

Miranda’s arms hung loosely by her sides. “They’re going to target Earth,” she whispered.

At that, Charlie shook her head, and pulled a fearsome scowl. “Not if I can help it. Come on, I can see the center console up ahead.” She led the pack to a large, octagonal platform, wherein a green-glowing console sat open.

“Something’s wrong,” I muttered. “They wouldn’t leave their systems up. The turian unit disabled their ship, and their systems were offline. Why is this sitting up here like it’s just waiting for us to link to their databanks?”

“EDI, do you detect anything malicious?” Charlie spoke.

EDI popped into the frequency. “ _No. However, you must manually connect me to their databanks for me to access their files._ ”

Charlie gestured, as if to say _see._

“Why haven’t we run into a single body of the crew?” I challenged, crossing my arms. “I’m telling you, I’ve got a bad feeling in my gut and it’s never been wrong before.”

Charlie regarded me, eyes narrowed stubbornly. She looked to the console, chewing her lip in indecision, and finally set to uploading EDI. I sighed, taking a step back and shaking my head, rubbing my forearms in an attempt to dispel the foreboding prickling of my skin.

EDI’s winking blue globe appeared atop the console. “I have accessed their databanks. There appears to be sufficient information as to navigate the Omega-4 Relay. Additionally, I have found files on their base. Scanning now.”

I heard a rustling behind me, turned, pistol pointed in seconds.

“EDI?” Paxton broke in.

It was Joker who came in. “ _Uh, Commander- the ship just powered back on. I suggest you get out of there before the weapons get back online. I’m not losing another Normandy!_ ”

“I have detected someone else in the system,” said EDI, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“We’ve got Collectors rolling in! Everyone get ready!”

The next few minutes were a familiar blur of ass-kicking, after which Charlie hurriedly re-programmed EDI to the systems to assist our escape. “I am opening a door to your left,” she said, “I will maintain it as long as I can.”

We ran. The door closed. We fought more Collectors. Joker shouted over the comms channel, “ _Hey, can you hurry before, you know, the weapons come back online and slice us in half?”_ We ran to another door. We found the shuttle again, tore into the shuttle bay, and held on for dear life as the Normandy rolled to evade a Collector beam and jump into FTL to somewhere not here.

“Oh god,” I moaned, laid out on my back by the acceleration and subsequent deceleration. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you about suspicious data?”

“The Illusive Man said that ship was derelict!” Charlie protested, floundering in her armor like a flipped turtle. Thane offered her a hand up, giving her a concerned once-over and murmured, “Are you all right, Siha?”

Siha. Interesting. Wait, not now. Still pissed off for recent screwing-over. “I sincerely hope you mean to talk to the Illusive Man about this. Like, now. Or I will.” I rolled gingerly over onto my stomach, getting slowly to my feet. “Damnit, I think my bruises have bruises.”

“We’re lucky we got out of it with bruises,” John said. “And I second that bit about the Illusive Man.”

Charlie nodded, reluctantly complacent in the face of the team’s collective glare.

“Wasn’t that a godam tea party,” muttered Zaeed, as I exited the shuttle bay, bound up for the CIC- the elevator doors opened to reveal Joker, anxiously waiting for the lift (and what was with his sudden leaving the bridge behavior?)- as soon as he saw me, the breath rushed out of him in a _whoosh_ , and he grabbed me and held on tight, burying his nose in the side of my neck and whispering a continuous stream of “ _holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit_.”

After a moment, he stepped back, hands keeping up a gentle grasp on my forearms. “I’m okay,” I assured him. “Pissed off, but alive.”

“Hell, the Illusive Man _promised_ that ship was dead.” He scowled. “I’m…I’m not surprised, not really, but…” he stuttered, thoughts flying around like seeker swarms, unorganized and desperate.

“Hey,” I interrupted, reaching out and taking him by his bearded cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“But you almost weren’t!” he snapped. “You’re not invincible, just because you made it out doesn’t mean there was a _really_ good chance that you could have died! Or been left behind, or…” he trailed off, furiously gesturing.

“But I didn’t,” I said, stopping him with my hands on his bearded cheeks. “I made it out. Everyone did. I’m here now. So are you. We’re fine.”

He lowered his eyes, gnawing on his lower lip, said softly, “Yeah, but…I don’t want to think about how close I came to losing you. I…” he stopped, and shook his head. “I…”

“Glenn.”

I turned to see Paxton, heading for the briefing room. “Come on.”

I nodded, looked back to Joker, briefly took his hands and squeezed them. “We’ll talk later,” I promised, and hurried after her to the chambers.


	21. An Interesting Array of Diverse Dalliances, and Discussions Relating to the Remarkable State of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mightily proud of this (rather introspective) chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much. Big lines and big revelations coming up soon- credit, as always, goes to Bioware.

“So the Illusive Man didn’t send us in there to screw us over?” Jacob said, in the briefing room. “Good to know.”

I…don’t know how to verb the sound I made, the disbelieving _ppppbfft_ of _no son let me tell you a thing_. “All right; so maybe the primary objective was not expressly to screw us over, but what else are we going to tell _sending us into a goddamn trap_?”

“You’ve got something to say about everything, but I don’t ever hear you coming up with any ideas,” snapped Miranda, leveling me with an ice queen-y stare.

“I’m not here to take your orders, you Cerberus _bitch_ ,” I lashed, corona surrounding me. “How about you and I take it to the mats and see how raw talent stacks with selective genetics.”

“What are you waiting for?” she challenged, stepping nose-to-nose.

“For you to finish getting dressed,” I snapped, “Or does the Illusive Man really let you whore around in that outfit?”

Suddenly, we were being pulled apart. “That’s _enough,_ you two,” Charlie barked, “Shitty as it might have been, we got what we came for.” She crossed her arms. “And if he tries that again, the Collectors will be the least of his worries.” John released my arms, and Charlie let go of Miranda to pace back to the head of the briefing room. She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Let’s go over what EDI found,” she said, and the blue holo-UI popped obligingly up, and then displayed scans of the Omega-4 Relay, and what I presumed was the Collector Base.

“It appears that the Collector vessels use an advanced Identification-Friend-Foe system that the Relay recognizes. To successfully navigate it, we would need to procure a Reaper IFF.”

“Right. Any brilliant ideas on how to get one of these?” I straightened up. “What are we gonna have to do, dress in drag and do the hula?”

“The Illusive Man found us a derelict Reaper,” said Charlie.

A comical silence met that one.

I threw my hands in the air. “One two three _not it_.”

“Relax,” she cut in, “Relax, I’m only taking volunteers for this one. This Reaper’s been dead for thirty-seven million years, but it’s still dangerous. No one is going in there against their will.”

Thane, predictably, was one of the first to step forward. “I will go with you, Siha.”

“Thank you, Thane.” She smiled, a soft lovey-dovey one that had me reeling (again.) Thane and her, was that really a thing?

“Count me in, battlemaster,” growled Grunt, “Lots of things to kill.”

“You’ll need someone to cover tech,” said Tali, edging into the front. “I’ll go too.”

I waited for the predictable sound of Garrus, as with all matters Shepper (the krogan dialect’s _Shepard_ , also phoneticized as _Shepurrd_ ), but when I turned, Paxton was white-faced, and had a hand on his, holding it desperately down. I looked for only half a second, turned back to the forefront. _Is that the mark of the lover, then? Does she trust not even family with this fish she has found in the tumultuous sea?_

After a brief silence announced the end of the volunteers, I pushed off from the handrail, shaking my head. “Well. You guys can get ready for that. Meanwhile, I’m going to board the Nope Train and ride it allll the way to Fuck-It-Ville.” I was the first to walk from the room, though some of the others followed me out.

The night cycle was falling; I headed for my quarters, rolling tired shoulders and yawning, freezing in my tracks when I saw Joker sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Hey,” I said, cautiously, stepping inside a little slower and hanging my coat on its hook, jabbing my thumb awkwardly at the door. “I…think Charles and a couple cohorts were headed to a derelict Reaper…?”

“Already underway,” he replied, and I was nodding before he even said it. _Of course we are, you’re just that good, and you tell yourself because you don’t hear it enough._ I sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

“I guess I should apologize for…freaking out on you earlier.” His hands worked unconsciously at each other. “I…I know you can handle yourself, I was just…stressed; I already lost one ship and…” he paused. “Can I tell you something? Something I’ve…not exactly been forthcoming with.”

I blinked. “Go on,” I said, quietly.

He looked down at his hands. “When I…” he seemed to freeze up, and force himself to go on. “When the first _Normandy_ was attacked…when the Collectors hit us, and Charlie gave the order to abandon ship…I…I didn’t.” he stopped, shaking his head and pulling in a shuddering breath. “I…I wouldn’t leave my post, and she had to come back for me. When she got…she got spaced, and it was my fault. She died because I wouldn’t let go.”

“Hey,” I said, soft, taking his hands before they could wear the skin right off, with all their wringing. “Stop. Don’t blame yourself for this. It was two years ago, we can’t spend our days looking back and wondering how it might have been…it gets too deep, we start thinking about how our lives might have been different, what might have happened to us…” I sighed, shook my head. “Trust me, I know. I spent twenty-six years asking myself what had gone wrong, and…” I cut myself off, looking to the side, and then defiantly holding his eyes. “Everything happens for a reason…even if you don’t understand it at the time. This…is exactly what the galaxy needs us to be.” I stopped, allowed a small uptick of the corner of my mouth. “No pressure.”

He smiled at me, slow, and roughly swiped the tears he probably thought I hadn’t noticed away with the back of his hand. “Yeah.” We held eyes for a single, magnetic moment, and then he shifted forward, caught me up in a kiss like the crashing of the surf, lying me gently down beneath the press of his own weight, catching me up in all of his little nuances: the prickle of his beard on the soft, exposed line of my throat, the feel of his hand- larger than mine, but softer- finding mine somewhere above my head, the irrefutable gentleness with which he nuzzled my cheek; inhaled and exhaled heavily against my skin- not fast, but hard, like every breath was effortful- the soft catch of his teeth against the line of my jaw. There were the fingers pulling through the snags and waves in my hair, the brush of his eyelashes- _so_ close- over my cheek, and with every passing minute, the increasingly urgent press of his hips to mine, stirring some deep ache that was both a friend and a stranger; something that I knew, but at the same time, didn’t understand- like I had been to this plane before, at a shallower depth; like I had waded before down the continental shelf and I was staring now off into the plunging drop of the slope.

It became too much when his finger traced the edge of my earlobe- the right one, to be specific, and I sat up with a start, gasping out a “ _Stop_.” He shifted aside, hurriedly, to allow me to swing my legs over the edge of the bed and hunch over, nose almost to my knees.

“Sorry,” I said, finally. “Sorry, I- it’s not anything you did.” _It’s not your fault I can’t hold your hand and jump, not your fault I can’t take the plunge, it’s mine._ I straightened up, met his concerned face of worry, and pulled as reassuring a smile I could manage.

“Here,” I murmured, to assure him further, drawing aside the obscuring chestnut curtain of my hair, displaying the earlobe he’d been touching. “See? Honest mistake. Good spot, just…not this side, for me.” he frowned as he held the hair aside, looking over the scar that split the lobe in two, scarred over at the edges, held together by two piercings. “You know how I told you…about Nanra? And how she left me? Well…after she left, I was…” _heartbroken, crushed, lost._ “…angry. I did a lot of stupid shit, and…well, this was a batarian bayonet. I never got it stitched afterwards. There’s a shortage of reliable clinics on Omega, and, well…” he let my hair go, and looked at me. “I guess I just wanted to remind myself…what happens, when you get too caught up…in things.” _This is what happens when you let love drop your shields._

He trailed his fingers gently down my right cheek, just shy of the scars. _I wear it all on my sleeve, but not really._ “I guess broken bones can be healed,” he said, with a soft smile. “You’d never know I’d ever had one just looking, huh?” _You’ve got your scars hiding inside; don’t want people to see ‘em._

I just nodded, smiling halfheartedly. He tucked my hair behind my ears, taking that stubborn curl that insisted on springing free and holding it back with his thumb, hands on either side of my face.

“There,” he murmured. “Now I can see you.”

I lowered my eyes, pulling the smile for when I couldn’t show what I was really feeling, when I was afraid of what I might see around me. “Hell, and I thought this was supposed to be fun. Isn’t that what people want, before they die?”

“You’re not people,” he said, quietly, rubbing one erstwhile thumb across my cheek. “You’re Glenn.” _That isn’t what you need, why hasn’t anyone told you what’s for them isn’t yours?_

I lowered my eyes, a fraction of a second. _No one’s ever cared to notice._

“I love…” he stopped himself short. “I love your individuality. You’re…you’re not afraid to be apart from the pack, you’re not afraid to step away from safety and conformity to just be…you.” He leaned in, gently touched our foreheads together, closed his eyes as I did mine. “But…inside you’re still afraid. You’re afraid of them, because they’re all the same, and there’s so many of them, and that makes them like facing down an army. You’re apart from them, but…you’re afraid of them. And that…that makes you a lone wolf, instead of a leader.” _You’re not like the rest, you’ll never be. Lead, follow, or be lost._

I let my head slip down to his shoulder, burying my nose in his neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why I can’t just…be content to be like them.”

“It’s a spark,” he told me, after a long pause. “It’s a spark- some people can see it, some people know that if you tend it properly, it’ll strike a fire. Other people would stamp it out before they even know it’s there.” He held me out at arm’s length, I opened my eyes. “You’ve been through a lot of shit. Twenty-six years of it, specifically. That it’s still there…is amazing.” He took a deep breath. “A lot of people will spout an endless stream of flak about how you have to seize your own destiny, but I’m telling you here and now that _that_ philosophy is complete and utter bullshit. _No_ one ever got anywhere without someone to believe in them.” His hands slid down, from my shoulders down to my hands, squeezing them lightly. “So this is me,” he finished, softly. “Here. And now. Telling you…I believe in you.”

I blinked at him, stunned, thinking tears might have been appropriate (if life were a vid; starring that turian whatsit and Forget’Hername Narcolepsy), instead just getting a wealth of confused feelings that the logical side of me recognized with extreme clarity; and the other half recognized just as well, declared _not doing that again,_ promptly hopping onto the Nope Train and punching a one-way ticket to Fuck-It-Ville.

“Thank you,” was all I said. It felt like I wasn’t saying enough; but was anything ever…enough? Ponderance aside, I was tired. It must have been obvious, because he said gently to me, “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, through a yawn, reclining on the just-this-side-of-too-firm cot, rolling onto my side and sighing. He made to get up, and I reached and took his wrist, rubbing my thumb over the central vein there. “Stay.”

I wondered if he knew the significance in sleeping with someone- truly, sleeping. On Omega, if someone trusted you enough to sleep in your presence; you were damned lucky. You had someone who would…likely die with you, if need be. I wondered if he knew that; wondered if it mattered, seeing as we were all going to Omega-4 together. Whatever the case, he was warm and his breath was a soothing hymn as I drifted off, no faster than usual. I watched the monitors with his arm slung around me; Charlie and Thane shared a quiet cup of tea in Life Support, and they both smiled like each was the only other person in the world. Small wonders never cease, I marveled, covered Joker’s- Jeff’s- hand quietly with my own, and shut my eyes.


	22. A Mission Later Deemed . . . Problematic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Enjoy this one (credit to Bioware, yadda yadda), and look forward to the next, which will be...shall we say, a little unusual? Enjoy! :)

It was, not, in fact, the mission to the derelict Reaper. That one went comparably fine; though it looked like the Omaha team coming out of that one would be suffering PTSD for years.

“Did I miss anything?” I asked Tali, as they returned.

“Husks,” she grouched, and went down to engineering. And a geth, apparently; one that Charlie carried aboard. I heard not long after that she’d activated it- quoth Joker; _Geth. On the ship. Geth. We’re all fricking insane._ \- but it wasn’t until it approached me in the mess and asked me a question that I learned it had actually joined the team. “Glenn,” it said, simply. “Creator Zorah has told us this is what you are called.”

“Uh…” I paused. “Yeah. Sure. That’s me. Glenn. You’re…?”

“Legion.”

“Legion. All right. What’s up?”

The geth paused, metal plates surrounding its headlight folding forward, and then suddenly sliding back into place. “We request nothing. We are simply confirming the identities of the squad as supplied in the directory, by the Enhanced Defense Intelligence.”

“Oh, EDI? Right, I got you.” I stuck my spoon in my mouth, tossed my lunch into the microwave, and faced the geth again. “Well, yeah. I’m Glenn. Hi.” I stuck my hand out, and the geth regarded it, then shook.

“Acknowledged,” it said, before turning and puttering off again.

Had to love the little guy (geth?), I eventually decided. It provided a lot of interesting insight for me on the long-standing quarian-geth war; a different perspective, per se; it told me how the geth actually worked, truth from the inside- plus it was just so _cute._ “We’re _not_ adopting it!” Joker protested, when I told him this one day. Shun the nonbeliever, I replied. Shun, _shuuuuuuun._

At any rate, Legion had itsshare of business to take care of as well (apparently, going to give a boot in the keyster to its Reaper-worshipping relatives); and it managed to crop up at exactly the same time as the Migrant Fleet accusing Tali of treason.

So that was how the suicide squad split into two groups: one small strike team, led by Paxton, to a geth ship to deliver said kick; towing Garrus, Legion, Mordin, and Jack along. The rest of us all headed to the Migrant Fleet in a shuttle; to answer the summons and defend Tali as one of our crew.

We were greeted at the liveship _Rayya,_ Tali’s birthplace, by a squad of marines. “Greetings, Tali’Zorah vas Normandy. Captain Shepard.”

“What do you mean,” Tali broke in, “vas Normandy?”

“The Admiralty Board has elected to try you as a member of Shepard’s crew,” the marine squad leader explained. “And…as such, until the trial is ended, you are confined to the _Rayya._ ”

Tali gave a resigned nod. “Thank you, Captain.”

We were escorted down a hall, down to the central terrace; where the hearing was to be held- I took in the sights with wide eyes, knowing that a rare opportunity had been afforded me: there were quarians on every civilized world in the galaxy, but few outsiders ever got to see the Migrant Fleet itself.

We ran into the first admiral in the doorway to the terrace, one that Tali ran up to, hugged, and named “Aunty Raan!” A friend of her father’s, as we all learned, Admiral Shala’Raan vas Tonbay had delayed the trial as long as she could, told us the same about Tali being tried under the name _Normandy,_ and informing us that there were no political loopholes, no beauraucratic hoops, and that Charlie, as her commanding officer, must present the truth as best she could and hope for the best. When we proceeded inside the stands were full. Charlie looked to Tali, and the two continued forward to the Admiralty Board standing in their bleachers, two men and one woman, with Shala’Raan presiding above the three.

“This Conclave is brought to order,” Shala’Raan began. “Blessed are the ancestors who kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season. Keelah se’lai.”

“ _Keelah se’lai_ ,” the crowds echoed. _By the home world I hope to see one day,_ my translator delivered to my hood’s built-in visor. It was a phrase I had heard before, but in the low, solemn chorus of the onlookers it sent chills up and down my spine. It was their greatest oath.

“The accused, Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, has come with her captain to defend herself against the charge of treason.”

The male quarian in the middle, sporting a faintly pink hood, raised his hand with a loud, snooty, “Objection! A human has no business at a hearing involving such sensitive military matters!”

Shala’Raan replied, in a very unimpressed tone, “Then you should not have declared Tali crew of the _Normandy_ , Admiral Koris. By right as Tali’s captain, Shepard must stay.”

Admiral Koris looked sulkily back to us. “Objection withdrawn,” he muttered.

“Shepard vas Normandy,” Shala’Raan continued. “Your crew member Tali’Zorah stands accused of treason. Will you speak for her?”

The breather helmet obscured most of Charlie’s face, but I could see the deep furrow of her brow- not what I expected. In most situations, Charlie could pull off the very portrait of diplomacy. At the top of the list of things I expected to hear was something like _it’s an honor_ or the like. At the very bottom was what came out: a sharp, argumentative, “I shouldn’t have to. Tali’s achievements should speak for themselves. There is _no one_ more loyal to the Migrant Fleet than her, and I find your forbidding the _Neema_ ’s captain to speak for her regrettable.”

I looked at John, but I could see the approving look in his eyes as he watched the proceedings. He was expecting this, then? Granted, he had known her longer, but this was…out of character. What differentiated now?

“No one has been forbidden of anything,” protested Koris; which prompted the other male admiral to his right to snap at him, “Lie to them if you must, Koris, but don’t lie to me and expect me to stay silent.” He gestured at Charlie. “The human is right.”

“Admirals, please,” Shala’Raan cut in. “Shepard’s willingness to represent Tali’Zorah in this hearing is appreciated.” She stepped back. “Tali, you are accused of bringing active geth to the Migrant Fleet. What say you?”

“How could Tali have brought active geth to the Fleet while serving on the _Normandy_?” Charlie cut in, sharply.

“To clarify, Tali’Zorah is not accused of bringing back entire units,” said the female admiral, to Koris’ left. “Only parts that could spontaneously activate.”

“But I would never send active geth to the Fleet,” Tali objected. “Everything I sent was disabled and harmless.” I winced, when I noticed the nervous wringing of her hands.

“Then explain how geth seized the lab ship where your father was working!” Koris jabbed a finger forward, mask quivering excitedly.

Gasps rang out in the crowds. Tali stepped forward, entire posture stunned. “What are you talking about?” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

The male admiral on the right shook his head at Koris, and looked back to Charlie and Tali on the stand. “As far as we can tell, Tali, the geth have killed everyone on the _Alarei_ …your father included.

“ _What_?” Tali shook her head, almost shaking. “Oh, Keelah.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve!” Charlie barked, her voice like the cracking of a whip through the startled murmurs of the crowd. “Bringing this up first in a public trial, who do you think you are?”

“Shepard, we have to take back the _Alarei_ ,” Tali spoke suddenly, turning desperately to her captain.

“The safest course would be to simply destroy the ship,” Koris spoke (I had the increasing urge to punch him in the helmet whenever he opened his mouth…er…whenever the light above his mouth flashed…if that was where his mouth was). “But if you are looking for an honorable death, instead of exile…”

“I’m _looking_ for my _father,_ you bosh’tet!” snapped Tali, jabbing a finger up at him.

“You intend to retake the _Alarei_ from the geth?” Shala’Raan questioned.

“If this is what you need to prove Tali’s loyalty, even after everything, then fine.” Charlie was as cutting as I had ever seen her. “We’ll retake your ship. And I hope for your sakes we see a little change in attitude when we get back.”

The admiral on the right cleared his throat. “And if you die on this worthy mission, Tali, we’ll see that your name is cleared of these charges.”

“We can discuss that later,” muttered Koris, looking to his right side.

“Then it is decided,” said Shala’Raan, over them all. “You will attempt to retake the _Alarei._ You are hereby given leave to depart the _Rayya_. A shuttle will await you at the second docking bay. Be safe, Tali. This hearing will resume upon your return…or, upon determination that you have been killed in action.”

Tali and Charlie exchanged a look, then slowly began up the stairs again, into the terrace.

They stopped to confer briefly, but I didn’t wait for them to return and speak with the rest of the team- I marched straight to Admiral Raan, in talks with another female quarian, and called, “You set her up, Raan!” her companion stepped back, hands in front of her. “You told the captain not to say anything; she doesn’t hear her father might be dead until she’s _in_ the trial? Why?”

“Who is this?” the admiral questioned, and I turned to see Charlie and Tali jogging up behind me.

“One of my crew,” said Charlie, a faint edge still sitting in her voice. “This is…Executive Officer Glenn vas Normandy.” She cleared her throat; and I was glad for the hood to hide my look of shock- Charlie, first telling off the Admiralty Board like she had a score to settle, and now lying? “She speaks with my voice.”

I straightened up, crossing my arms. “I don’t know what constitutes in your culture, but from where I come from, we’d call that a stab in the back. And we know what happens when your suits rupture.”

Shala’Raan looked at me a long time, glowing eyes blinking. “The Admirals needed to hear the shock in your voice, Tali. Otherwise, they might not have let you try to retake the _Alarei._ That is your best chance at recovering evidence that can exonerate you.” She hung her head, shook it. “I am sorry. We cannot afford sensitivity, Tali.”

“You’re out of line,” I growled.

“I understand you’re trying to help her, but I agree with my XO,” Charlie added, crossing her arms.

“She has no one else to speak for her, Shepard!” Raan protested. “I am doing everything in my power! That’s what her father would have wanted!”

“Don’t say it like that,” said Tali, angrily, tremulously. “He could still be alive on that ship.”

“You should get to the _Alarei_ soon,” Raan beseeched. “Is there anything else I can tell you?”

“Not for now,” Charlie said. “Like you said, we’ll be leaving soon. Give me a moment to speak with my XO.”

“Of course,” Shala’Raan said, turning back to her prior conversation.

“Is this where I get my lecture?” I asked, as Charlie walked us back to the rest of the group.

“This is where you get your orders,” Charlie replied, and I looked at her again; this angry stride, this cutting-chase right down to business, this sharp new bad bitch I didn’t think existed. “Thane, Tali, and I will head out to the _Alarei_. I want you to speak around with people while we’re gone. Find out where they stand. Get us support if you can. I have a feeling there’s more to this than just reactivated geth parts.” She crossed her arms. “Speak in the hearing when we get back. I won’t deny you’re a hothead, but a hothead might be just what we need. Do what you do best. Talking. Charming. We’ll go blow up some geth.” She pulled out her rifle, and gestured the other two along with her.

“This is a new side, Charles,” I said, as she began to walk- storm, really- for the second docking bay. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”

“I’m perfectly willing to be the good guy,” she said shortly, rounding on me and jabbing her finger straight at my heart, “Until someone fucks with my crew.” Without further ceremony, she whirled around and blazed a path for the second shuttle bay, Thane and Tali in tow.

I watched them go, vaguely bewildered and somewhat amused, mostly feeling bad for the Admiralty Board’s chances.

“She only gets like this when one of her own is under pressure,” John told me, and I turned to face him. “Then she’s…a force of nature. She doesn’t even give a shit who she alienates or who she has to kill to keep her family safe.”

I watched after where she had gone another moment. “I have a job to do,” I said, after brief pause. “Watch the family, will you?”

John nodded, and I stepped out into the terrace again.

The first one I went to give a piece of my mind was Koris (probably would have slapped him, if it would have done any good). When he turned, he looked me over for a long moment and said finally, “Admiral Zaal’Koris vas Qwib-Qwib. You are…?”

What I meant to say was, _hey, asshole, first mate vas Normandy would like to have a word with you. And by word I mean a solid punch in the teeth. Or a swift kick in the buttocks. You’re in need of both._ “You have a ship named _Qwib-Qwib_?” was what I said instead. The male quarian next to him sighed, putting a hand to his mask. “Here we go…”

“In difficult times,” said the Admiral, tightly, “We- the Migrant Fleet- may have had to make purchases of ships from other species- and at times, the paperwork and registry of these ships has been _difficult_ to _change_.”

I blinked at him. “Couldn’t you just get a new ship?”

The admiral sighed, folding his hands behind his back and standing straighter. “I, at times, have considered requesting a transfer; to a ship with an honorable name, like the _Defrahnz_ or the _Iktomi._ ” He crossed his arms in front of him. “But I am proud of the _Qwib-Qwib,_ and will defend her against any who would try to label her a mark of shame. And who are you?” he eyed me again. At least, I think he was.

“Executive Officer of the _Normandy_ ,” I said (lying came easy; especially ones that made waspish admirals stand up straighter and show a little respect). “I speak with Captain Shepard’s voice.”

“I see.” His voice was tight now, evidently irritated at more upstarts.

“There seems to be a bit more going on than just an issue over activated geth,” I said, crossing my arms and bracing a hip on the nearby rail. “A little infighting between admirals. What’s the story there?”

Koris sighed, at this. “Yes. Indeed, the admirals are in disagreement over the issue of the homeworld…Admirals Gerrel and Zorah believe it is past time to retake Rannoch. I, on the other hand, think that prospect is a meaningless waste of life. Outright war with the geth would cause tremendous losses on both sides.” He began to pace. “The geth are alive as much as we are. Do they not also have a right to live?”

Suddenly, he was giving me a reason to think him tolerable. “What about Shala’Raan?”

“Undecided,” he said, shaking his head. “Admiral Xen believes not in destroying them, but returning them to the servants they were before. This trial is not about Tali’Zorah. It is more about if we will go to war, or not.”

“Then why drag Tali into this?” I crossed my arms.

“Her sending of geth to her father was just a convenient catalyst, a, a scapegoat…” he gestured, holding one arm about the elbow. “I…I do not hate Tali’Zorah, XO…”

“Glenn,” I supplied.

“Glenn,” he repeated, making the quarian next to him stand up as if shocked. “I merely do not condone her father’s- and her- obsession with reclaiming Rannoch.”

I crossed my arms, wishing glares transferred through recon hoods. My visor suggested I put a shot through the glass of his mask, and I willed it to be quiet.

“Glenn?” said the young male quarian by the admiral’s side. “The…Glenn, from Omega?”

“I…” I blinked. “Yeah. I was there.”

“Then…you helped me get out of there. You were the human that gave me a thousand creds to get passage off of the station.” He hurried forward, grasped my hand in his two and shook it. “If you hadn’t helped me I might still be there.”

“Well…” I continued to shake his hand (he wouldn’t let go). “You’re…welcome. For that. Uh…?”

“Kenn’Talah vas Qwib-Qwib,” he replied, then finally letting my hand go. His mask was fogging, faintly. “I…thank you.” He hurried away. Zaal’Koris watched him go, and shook his head, looking back to me. “I think he likes you, human.”

“Ah, maybe.” I shook my head. “He’ll get over it, I’m sure. Besides; I’m riddled with disease. And allergic to his body fluids. Probably better we both find something closer to home.” Oddly enough, I thought of Garrus and Paxton, wondered if that was one of the things keeping them in their dance, scaring them. Knowing Pax, it was likely enough that she didn’t care; and knowing Garrus, it was likely enough that he was afraid of hurting her. I bid farewell to Zaal’Koris, and went on my way.

Talks with Han’Gerrel went fairly well, considering he was one in favor of exonerating Tali- with the nasty side-effect of raring for war. I excused myself from that one civilly as possible, and ran into two quarians that knew Tali, that Shepard had apparently helped- a jittery young thing, Veetor’Nara, who had been rescued from the abducted colony of Freedom’s Progress, accompanied also by a caregiver named Dr. Elan’Shiya; and Kal’Reegar, a marine captain who had been the only other survivor of Tali’s team on Haestrom. “I was the one who suggested they let her retake the _Alarei,_ ” he shared, his hands working somewhat nervously. “I hope…I hope it works.”

I crossed my arms. “You care for Tali?”

“She was my commanding officer, ma’am,” he replied.

“Uh-huh,” I said, smirking.

Kal’Reegar shifted on his feet, mask fogging just slightly. _Not today,_ I read. And so: “Not a word,” I promised him.

Admiral Daro’Xen was probably the worst chat of the day- “I don’t care for this farce of a trial,” she told me. “I’m more interested in the scientific benefits of studying geth. They are no more than servants that we built. We may experiment on them as I performed surgery on my toys when I was a child.”

“The fact that you performed surgery on your toys explains a lot,” I said, shaking my head.

She crossed her arms. “Han’Gerrel is an aging warship, and Zaal’Koris is nothing more than the whining suit-wetter he’s always been. If we could find how to return the geth to our control, we could possess the largest synthetic army in the galaxy, _and_ reclaim the homeworld.”

“I know a geth,” I retorted, fists clenching tightly. “They’re an amazing people with a culture all their own. You wouldn’t enslave an organic race; why do it to them?”

“They are intelligent because we made it so,” she said, unimpressed. “Everything they are is owed to us. They aren’t alive, not really; they’re just our machines, a little out of hand. You wouldn’t worry about your pistol’s feelings, would you?” she shook her head. “Geth sympathizers are merely cowards who are too afraid to do what has to be done, who would rather run around the galaxy their whole lives and write it off to a moral ambiguity. You can’t see, but I’m rolling my eyes.”

I finally snapped. “And I’ll tell you; if you didn’t have a windshield on twenty-four seven I’d pull this hood off and spit right in your face. Keep talking; watch me pull this pistol-” I drew it, holding it parallel to myself, “-and put a hole right through that bucket you wear on your head. _Don’t_ you dare to presume you can drag _my_ crew into this. If you want to be a jabbering bigot on your own time, _fine._ Everyone’s entitled to an opinion. Unfortunately for you, I’m entitled to the opinion that yours is _wrong,_ and if you go gun-ho to Rannoch with your cannons blazing, I _guarantee_ you there is going to be nothing but radio silence when you call for help. You vastly underestimate them, and if you go to war now with this mindset, you’ll all end up spaced.”

There was a stunned silence from the surrounding crowds, as I stepped back, and holstered the pistol again. “How long has it been since you went on pilgrimage? Where did you go, even? They say travel is the bane of prejudice.” I shook my head, spreading my arms. “So what’s with all the discrimination in this Fleet, huh?” my last words echoed off the walls of the terrace, and murmurs began when I turned away and practically stomped back to my own group.

“That was well-said,” John said, when I returned, fuming.

“Yeah?” I bit, “I can _hear_ her having a revelation. Oh, wait, that’s them assembling to dispense judgment. How long have they been gone?”

John checked at the UI on his gauntlet. “Two hours, almost.” He looked to the doors to the docking bay. “They already think they’re dead?”

“Oh, I’ll have their fuckin’ heads,” I muttered. “Buckets and all. How can one member of a species reflect so well on a bunch of boarsighted assholes?”

“Only the government,” John supplied, and I sighed, with an agreeing nod. “Yeah, got that right. They’re bad all over, huh?” I shook my head, with a faint, bitter smile. “I guess some things transfer across species well enough.”

It was in that moment that the doors opened, and I turned to see the team coming back. I hurried up to Charlie, fell in step beside her. “What’s the deal?”

“We found evidence,” she said. “Tali’s father was activating geth, trying to research their protocols. The whole crew is dead, the ship’s clear.” She cast a glance at Tali, trailing numbly behind us. “She doesn’t want me revealing it, though.”

“Understandable,” I said, grimly. “That’s her father; opening this up to trial will implicate him. Probably get him posthumously exiled.”

“You find anything?”

I nodded. “A lot of crowd support for her, actually. Specifically Veetor’Nara and Kal’Reegar, two you’ve helped before? Anyway, I spoke to the admirals too. Their infighting- this trial, it’s all a front for to war or not to war, that being the big question.”

“I knew it,” Charlie muttered, darkly, her scowl deepening and her fists clenching so hard her knuckles cracked.

“Save the anger for the jury,” I murmured.

“Are you ready to speak?” she asked me.

“Following your lead, Captain,” I replied.

“Very well,” Shala’Raan was saying on the stand. “Is the Admiralty Board prepared to render judgment?”

It was then that we broke through the crowds, causing gasps and shocked murmurs abound.

“Sorry we’re late,” deadpanned Tali.

“The _Alarei_ is retaken,” Charlie told them, crossing her arms. “I hope this proves her loyalty to you.”

“It was never her loyalty that was in question,” said Koris, “Only her judgment.”

“Did you find anything on the _Alarei_ that could clarify what happened there?” Gerrel broke in.

Charlie shared a look with Tali. She turned, stepped up to the podium, faced down the board. “Shepard, please…” Tali implored.

“Does Captain Shepard have any new evidence to submit to this hearing?” Shala’Raan questioned.

Charlie straightened up. Then, she leveled an accusatory finger at the Board, barked at them, “Tali’s achievements are the only evidence you should need!” she turned away, gestured for us to follow. “Come on, Tali, we’re leaving.”

Shala’Raan sounded absolutely shocked. “ _What_?”

“This is a formal proceeding!” Koris protested.

I took this as my cue, whirled around, shouted them down: “Wrong, Admiral! This is a sham! _You’re_ trying to build sympathy for the geth to forestall the war effort!”

“Th-that is completely-” he blustered.

“And you want all the messy experiments covered up so _you_ can throw your fleet at the geth!” I barked, rounding on Gerrel.

“I… I…” Gerrel stammered.

“Do what you want with your toy ships,” I waved an uncaring hand, “But leave _my_ crew out of your political bullshit!”

“Wait!” we all turned, shocked, perhaps, to see Veetor hurrying forward. “Shepard is right! Tali saved me. She doesn’t deserve to be exiled.”

“Damn straight, Tali’s done more for this fleet than you assholes ever will,” added Reegar, storming forth to his side. “You’re pissing on everything I fought for, everything Tali fought for- so if you exile her, you might as well do the same to me.”

Veetor looked from Reegar to the Board. “Me, too,” he added. In the midst of the shocked shouting of the crowd, the admirals pulled up their omni-tools: Gerrel and Xen first, then Koris. Shala’Raan looked at her own, then spoke: “Tali’Zorah, in light of your history of service, we do not find sufficient evidence to convict. You are cleared of all charges.” She looked to Charlie, punching her omni-tool once more. “Commander Shepard, please accept these gifts in our appreciation of you taking the time to represent one of our own.”

Charlie leaned forward. “If you appreciate me, then listen- the Reapers are coming. I’m going to need your help to stop them. Please, don’t throw away your lives against the geth.”

“Thank you, Commander Shepard,” Koris said, sounding faintly smug, though still quite wounded. “I hope this Board carefully considers your advice.”

Charlie pushed off of the rail, shaking her head in disgust. I had to agree with her, crossing my arms tightly and facing the Board down.

“This hearing is concluded,” Raan said, at last. “Go in peace, Tali’Zorah vas Normandy. Keelah se’lai.”

 _Keelah se’lai,_ echoed the crowd.

As we left the pulpit, Tali was shaking her head. “I can’t believe you pulled that off…what you said. No one’s ever spoken like that before on my behalf.” She looked at me. “It’s been a long time since anyone shouted down the Admiralty Board…I think it was good for them.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you for being there for my father and me. Both of you, even when…” she trailed off. “Thank you.”

Charlie gestured at the stand. “We can still go back in and get you exiled, if you want.”

Tali laughed a little. “Thanks, but I’m fine with things like this. Besides, it’s fun watching you shout.”

Charlie put a hand on her arm. “Come on, Tali’Zorah _vas_ Normandy. Let’s get back to our ship.”

“Yes…” Tali said, softly. “Captain.”

We ran into Veetor as we made our way back to the doors, and Tali held up a hand for us to wait. She crossed to the young quarian, where he stood speaking with his doctor. “Veetor,” she said, “I can’t believe you stood up and spoke for me.”

“Oh, well,” Veetor said, bouncing a little. “It’s good Reegar was there. He said most of it.”

“Veetor,” said Tali, warmly. “Thank you.”

“Oh, uh…okay. And…thank you, Shepard. For…for helping me and Tali both.”

I could hear Charlie’s smile. Now, she was back to her old self, and I was…strangely okay with that. “Guess you just needed a pretty woman to help you feel better.”

“Well…” said Veetor, glancing at Dr. Elan’Shiya, “Maybe. Good luck, Tali. And you too, Commander.” We saw Kal trailing in the peripherals, and I tapped Charlie on the shoulder, gesturing towards the shuttle bay and then at Tali.

“We’ll meet you at the shuttle, Tali,” Charlie spoke, taking my hint. “We’ve got to go gather everyone else up.”

Tali looked questioningly to where our heads were both pointed, noticed Reegar, and then looked quickly back to us. “Oh…okay!” I practically dragged Charlie away, grinning the whole time, and when I looked at her I saw she was doing the same.

We rounded up the rest of the team, and together we all headed back to the shuttle, joined by Tali. By then, we were feeling pretty good- after all, we’d shouted down some politicians, blown up some geth, witnessed a jittery youngster and a starstruck lover take a stand on behalf of one of our own, and ended up possibly saving the day. But I mentioned before that this mission was labeled problematic, and this is where that conclusion was reached: as soon as we got back into the shuttle there was a single message from the _Normandy:_  when played, the clear tones of EDI relayed: “ _The Collectors have attacked the Normandy. The crew was taken. The ship is secure, but a quick return is favorable._ ”


	23. The Problematic Portion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I get you with the last one? (ehe, I know I'm evil. And that I like plot twists.) There's an end in sight, though, and that alone is remarkable. Credit to Bioware, as always, and enjoy.

The details of the event mentioned in the message concluding the last chapter all occurred at such a time as the entire squad was away; the _Normandy_ alone with its crew and EDI to man it. The crew, however, ended up abducted, and as such were not on hand to provide a report. The details, therefore, seeing as they were recounted at a later date by Joker Moreau, are likely to be somewhat falsified, fabricated, or hyperbolized, but I count on EDI’s occasional objection and correction that the following account is true, or, as true as it needs to be.

It began while Delta and Omaha were en route; to the heretic station and the Migrant Fleet, respectively; roughly two point nine hours after I had leaned to kiss my helmsman on the left temple and promise to be back soon, and made my way down to the shuttle bay for departure. Joker, at the helm, was at the time overseeing the algorithms of the Reaper IFF, shaking his head at EDI’s repeated insistences: “I’m telling you, EDI, your readings are off. It’s radiation bleed, just white noise.”

“I have detected a signal embedded in the static,” EDI pressed, “We are transmitting the _Normandy_ ’s location.”

“Transmitting?” Joker tossed a few holograms around, frowning. “To who?”

There was a sudden, loud _boom_ of a colossal ship coming out of FTL, and the Collector Ship spanned across the upper windshield.

“Oh, _shit,_ ” he gasped. “EDI-”

“I can save the _Normandy,_ Mr. Moreau. However, you must give me control of the ship’s systems.”

“ _What_?” he gripped onto the edge of his seat as the ship rocked, “You crazy? You start singing _Daisy Bell_ and I’m done!”

“It is the only way.”

Joker hefted himself to his feet, legs shaking under his own weight. “Right, right, I’m going.”

“You’ll have to access the AI Core through the maintenance shaft in the science lab,” she told him. “The Collectors have boarded the ship; and the main ways are no longer safe.”

Joker hitched into a limp, cursing, watching helplessly as the lift doors began to force their way open. “Go on, Joker, I’ll hold them off as long as I can!” a spindly claw shoved its way through the crack in the doors, then a huge creature exploded into view, and with a single thrash, one crewman was down. “ _What the shit_!” Joker hissed, jogging as best he could into the tech lab, locating the vent shaft and crawling inside, not before witnessing a Praetorian flying around below near the drive core.

The long, painful journey through the ducts was finally ended as Joker clambered out in Life Support, informed by EDI, “Multiple hostiles detected on the Crew Deck!”

Hawthorne was pressed near the door, and upon sight of the erstwhile helmsman, called, “Joker! This deck is crawling with those things. Stay close, I’ll protect you.” As soon as the door opened he was knocked aside by a Collector, and Joker quickened his step with a hissed utterance of pain, lancing up through his shins. Yeoman Chambers shrieked as a huge, bulbous Scion tugged her into the lift. “Shit, shit, shit!”

As he hurried into the tech lab, EDI announced, “Main fusion plant offline. Activating emergency H-fuel cells.”

He stepped into the AI core, stopped, caught his breath for a moment, panted, “Okay, I’m at uh…uh, you.”

EDI’s interface popped up. “Connect the core to the _Normandy_ ’s primary control module.”

Joker shook his head, setting to the controls nonetheless. “Great, see, this is where it starts, and when we’re all just organic batteries, guess who they’ll blame?” he began moving the protocols around. “‘This is all Joker’s fault, what a tool he was; now I have to spend all day computing pi because he plugged in the Overlord!’” he finished the connection, stepped back as EDI’s blue globe suddenly swelled into the confines of the walls. The lights flickered back on.

“Ah. I have access to the defensive systems,” she said. “Thank you, Mr. Moreau.” Her familiar hologram appeared once again. “Now you must reactivate the primary drive in engineering.”

“Argh!” he groaned. “You want me to go crawling through the ducts again.”

“I enjoy the sight of humans on their knees.”

Joker froze, gaping at the interface.

“That is a joke,” EDI clarified.

“ _Right_.” He turned around to the second vent shaft, taking a steadying breath.

“The shaft behind you connects to the engineering deck,” said EDI. “Good luck.” He looked suspiciously around, down to the duct, and then began to climb down.

The second climb was longer and more harrowing than before; with the screams of the crew fading away into a disturbing silence, broken by the occasional rapid click of a Collector. He quickened his pace, breath speeding up and pulse hammering in his throat, wondering if they had found the passage. EDI would have warned him, though- but what if they’d shut off the AI Core?

When at last he climbed out in the very subdecks, seeing Jack’s sleeping quarters nearby, he paused only momentarily before limp-jogging towards the stairs. “There are hostiles present in engineering,” warned EDI, “They are heading towards the cargo bay.”

On the second landing he froze, watching the shadows on the wall, turning around to see a Collector and Scion passing through with a pod. He waited, shaking, until they passed through the door to the right, then hurried up, tripping and nearly falling once, cursing and bracing on the wall, limping the rest of the way up the stairs, turning to the left and punching the console, fearing what he might find.

Engineering itself was clear, and he hurried forward to Tali’s control console. “Activate the drive and I will open the airlocks as we accelerate. All hostiles will be killed.”

“What?” Joker froze, looking to the ceiling, “What about the crew?”

“They are gone, Jeff. The Collectors took them.”

Joker stepped back, shaking his head, unable to articulate the heady cocktail of feelings all mixing dangerously inside. “Shit.” He shuffled up to the drive core.

“I am sealing the engine room,” said EDI. He looked up, wide-eyed, to the core, shielding his eyes as the brightness intensified. “I have control.”

The core fired suddenly and the ship shot off; the vertigo sending him to his back as the _Normandy_ sped away from the Collectors’ vessel, hitting FTL in record time.

Joker groaned. “Purge is complete,” said EDI, “No other life forms on board. Securing airlocks and cargo bay doors.” He struggled for a moment, sat up, then got painfully to his feet.

“Send a message to Charlie’s shuttle,” he said, “Pax’s too. Tell them what happened.”

“Message away,” said EDI, “Are you feeling well, Jeff?”

He stood for a moment. “No,” he said. “But thanks for asking.” With a repressed sigh of pain, he turned, and limped on sore legs, making slow progress to the lift.

The team returned perhaps an hour later, making double (triple) time back to the _Normandy._ Our shuttles jumped out of FTL at perhaps the same time, and puttered away towards the opened bay doors. I waited inside, pacing as John landed the Kodiak as fast as was safely possible, skidding a little on the floors- not that I was there to feel it, having jumped out as soon as the shuttle had been over a safe length of solid ground. I took a running start, shooting into the lift and practically shrieking, “ _EDI_!”

“Mr. Moreau is on the CIC, in the briefing room,” she replied. I punched the button so hard my finger jammed, and I barked out a loud “ _fuck,_ ” as it began to move, jabbing repeatedly at the button. “Go faster, god fucking _dammit_!”

The lift finally opened, and I sprinted out, veering around the corner, tearing through the tech lab, corridor, and into the briefing room. I froze, momentarily in the threshold, long enough to see Joker turn to me, looking ashen, eyes wide and soft and vulnerable, completely unguarded.

“ _Shit_ ,” I said gustily, the adrenaline draining out of me and leaving me suddenly bone-tired. I hurried forward, wrapped my arms around his hunched form, standing between the legs dangling off the edge of the table. I tried to think of something to tell him, something comforting that wasn’t a lie, ended up whispering “ _I’m here_ ,” over and over again, while I ran my hand up and down his back and cradled the back of his head, his nose pressing into the side of my neck. “I’m here,” I murmured, as I felt my shoulder growing wet.

We had a few moments alone, presumably while the others checked the ship for any other possible survivors. I stepped back, let him sniffle once and wipe roughly at his eyes. “Are you okay?” I asked, then I stopped and shook my head. “No, no, that’s a shitty question. Forget I asked.”

“I’m doing better,” he told me, in a small voice, “Now that you’re here.” He managed a small smile, and I had to step in close and kiss him, pushing his hat out of the way and tactfully ignoring the desperate way he gripped at the back of my coat.

We pulled apart at the sound of the door opening, but the first arrivals were only Charlie and a few others; Thane, Mordin, Garrus, and Paxton. “There’s…no one left,” Pax said numbly, shaking her head.

“Really, now,” I snapped, as Joker bowed his head again, folding his hands and looking anxiously at them. Garrus rubbed comfortingly at Paxton’s shoulder. A few others filed in over the next few minutes- I kept my post by his side, occasionally patting his knee, gnawing fretfully on my lip and looking around at the others. One of the last to enter was a Miranda-in-arms, flanked by a distressed Jacob. “Everyone?” she growled, “You lost _every_ one- and damn near lost the ship, too!”

“Lay off, Little Miss Perfect,” I snapped, stepping up into her personal space, “Next time _you_ can hold off the Collectors, how’s _that_ for an idea?”

“Stand down and know your station, Glenn,” she said to me, tersely, staring down the end of her nose at me.

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me,” I snarled, putting up a corona. “Try it, you cheerleader bitch. I’ll break your flawless nose.”

“Stand down!” Charlie barked, shoving between the both of us. “Both of you! We have _enough_ problems on our hands without all this infighting.” She jabbed a finger between the two of us. “A deck between you two after we dismiss here, understand?”

“Gladly,” I spat, and turned my back to pace back to my spot.

“It’s not his fault, Miranda,” Jacob put in, “None of us caught it.”

“Indeed,” supplied EDI, “the Collector virus was even more sophisticated than the Reaper codes I was given in my black-box.”

John shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done; Joker and EDI got it all under control. We’re lucky to have them. The important question is, what do we do now?” he asked.

“Logistically, we have everything we need to go through the Omega-4 Relay now,” Jacob supplied.

“We can’t just go rushing in,” Miranda protested.

“They took our crew,” Paxton snapped, “What do you propose we do. I, for one, will _not_ sit here while the Collectors line up our people for whatever sick experiments they’re running.”

Charlie leaned heavily on the table. She straightened up, looked heavily at us all, and said, “They hit our ship- _while_ we were away. They took our crew. We’ve got to go get them back.” She faced us all. “ _No_ one gets left behind.” She looked to Joker. “Set a course for the Omega-4 Relay immediately.”

“Aye aye, Commander,” he said, sliding down from his perch. I offered him my arm and he leaned on me for the support, but only after we had exited the room.

Once Joker had been seated at his perch; and EDI assured me that he was in good hands. (“Really. I’m fine,” he insisted.) I headed to the tech lab, looking over the scans of the _Normandy,_ displaying the new upgrades: armor, shielding, Garrus’ relativistic plasmid gun. Mordin was in there running his sample tests, but he looked immediately to me when I did to him- unusual.

“It’s so quiet out there,” I said. Mordin just nodded, looked down to his work again. It was a long time- perhaps a few minutes, which was like hours for him- before he spoke.

“Glenn,” he said, “Prepared? For this?”

I blinked, crossing my arms. I hesitated, opened my mouth, closed it again. “You know?” I said, finally. “I think I am. As ready as I _can_ be, anyway.”

“Life prospects for humans on Omega…much like salarians. Forty years; at best.”

“Yeah.” I leaned on his table. “That much is statistics. Pure numbers…can’t go wrong with those.”

When I looked up, Mordin had fixed me with one of his froggy smiles. “Average salarian lifespan forty years. Statistics. Pure numbers…can’t go wrong with those.” He took my hands. “I, have lived to see fifty,” he told me, proudly. He looked me over, then, added, “Remarkable, for me, for species. You, considerably, could live thrice as long.” He continued to appraise me, then gave an affirmative nod. “What is it Thane says? Ah, yes. Galaxy brighter place with you in it. Would be shame for that light to be snuffed out…so soon.” He sighed, brushed some of my stubborn hair back. “Twenty-six years short, even for salarians.”

I took his hand. A long silence between us; then, he squeezed. “Glenn,” he began, softer. “You are…like the daughter I never had.” I blinked at him, wide-eyed at his slowness of speech, the use of pronouns I’d long considered out of his vocabulary. “I know you have great things ahead of you.” He let my hand go, stepped back a little. He turned his back, took a deep breath, brought up something on a datapad and began typing. “Should take care of unfinished business,” he said, after a while, concise and efficient, back to his old self. “Time is short.”

I nodded, silently, a few times. “Thanks, Mordin,” I said, and quietly left the lab.

As I stepped out onto the CIC, into the eerie silence, devoid of the crew; Kelly at her station, the crewmen moving about the deck. _There’s a grief that can’t be spoken, there’s a pain goes on and on, empty chairs at empty tables…_ Internally, I trailed off, unable to finish the verse. Could I even call the crew my friends? And could I abandon hope for them now? No, no, we were coming for them now. If only there was some way to tell them that; to assure them we were on our way.

No, there was still hope. Almost nothing was certain, but some things were.

Joker came in over the intercom. “ _Everyone…this is Joker. We’re underway to Omega-4. ETA about two hours.”_ There was a hesitation, like he grasped for something more to say and found nothing, and then the crackle of the line being dropped.

I stood alone, out on the empty CIC- and then, something made me turn and leave the deserted decks behind, striding slowly into the surveillance room, lit only with its flickering screens.


	24. A Last Selfish Allowance for Several Welcoming Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, I present the chapter that changed the rating to Explicit. So, uh...porn. Not the super explicit stuff, I think. But still. Porn.
> 
> It's Bioware's porn, though. Enjoy. But, uh, no need to tell me the details.
> 
> Or do. I'll gladly listen.
> 
> I'm going to stop being creepy now. Enjoy.
> 
> **WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER IS KNOWN TO INCLUDE SEVERAL THEMES INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO- SEXPOT JOKER, ADORABLE JOKER, CASANOVA JOKER, AND MORDIN FUCKING SOLUS. THIS HAS BEEN A PSA.**

“ _Thane._ ” Charlie cupped the drell’s face, rubbing tears away with the pads of her fingers. “ _Be alive with me tonight._ ” As they leaned in to kiss again, I shut off the feed to the captain’s cabin, as I had done moments before, when Garrus had stuttered out in the main battery, “ _I just. I’ve seen so many things go wrong; in my life…with C-Sec, with Sidonis, I…I just want something…to go right, for once…”_ Paxton had leaned in and their foreheads had touched, his hand had come up as if to touch her shoulder- that was the first feed I’d decided to cut, for privacy’s sake. That was a moment for them to share, to remember as all their own in the coming fight. Looking in on moments of theirs- moments like those- just wasn’t right; for all of my claims to know everything.

I had shut off most of the feeds; primarily those to the empty areas of the ship. I’d thought, perhaps if I only kept open the vids where people were, perhaps then the _Normandy_ would seem less quiet. In the crew quarters, John sat on the edge of his bed, weapons and armor sitting ready for him nearby, but his eyes were only for the picture in his hand, as he slowly ran his fingertips across the face there; brown eyes like the sunset through a glass of whiskey. I remembered. _Solipsism,_ I recalled. _A perfect memory, something only drell may boast. Some moments, though, are perhaps as clear for humans._

Human, asari…whatever I was. I found it mattered less and less these days. I rose from my chair, cutting the rest of the feeds and turning on my lamp, and at the same time the door opened and revealed Joker at my threshold.

“…sorry,” he said, after a pause. “I guess I could have knocked.”

“It’s fine,” I said, sitting down on the edge of my bed, eyeing the galactic standard clock by my bedside. _We simply cannot afford sensitivity._

He came inside, letting the door close behind him, sitting carefully down beside me. I afforded him a sideways look; he smiled at me, almost weakly. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I said, softly. His hand covered mine on the bedspread. We sat in a silence, slightly uncomfortable but not entirely so, for a short while.

“I guess I should start,” he began, “By saying I’ve, uh, enjoyed the hell out of the last few weeks.” He swallowed.

“Me too,” I said, quiet.

Another long pause.

“I’ve…enjoyed the hell out of getting to know you,” he said. “And…getting to learn about you. There are some things…some sides of you I’ve been privileged to see.” He took a deep breath, biting lightly on his lip before continuing, “And…I’m glad. That I got to have this before I drove straight into hell with the clear notion that I’m not getting back out.” he sighed, looked down at his knees.

I couldn’t think of anything profound to say. His words had choked me up too well. “So am I,” I said. _I know I’m fucking lucky for this crew. I don’t like all of them, but I respect the hell out of this family. And some of them even respect the hell out of me. Don’t know where I lucked out. What karma I’m feeding off of, what I ever did to deserve this and them and you. If this is what it took to find someplace, someone…I would have joined a suicide mission a long time ago._

After another long while, he gently squeezed my hand. “What I’m about to say…” he trailed off. “If you stop me I’ll never get it out. So…just listen for a minute.” He turned with a visible wince, cross-legged on the blankets, facing me directly, and I did the same. “I…the way I feel about you is…something I’ve never felt for anyone else.”

“Is this just the heat of the moment?” I questioned, voice barely more than a whisper, when he took my hands. “We’re likely signing our death warrants,” I continued, “Going through with this. Is this your instinct? Hormones? Whatever…whatever thing decides the things you should say before you die?”

He blinked at me. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Maybe it is.” He squeezed my hands. “But if I’m gonna be dead tomorrow, I wanna go at least knowing that I came clean to you.” He held my eyes, for the barest fraction of a second, telling me what he was going to say before there were even words. “I love you.”

I was already trying hard enough to breathe, and I had to let out a juddering breath at those words. Unsure of what to say, to feel- gratitude? Reciprocation? No, there was reciprocation in troves. Do I laugh? Cry? Hold on to him until the gravity runs out and float to the ends of the galaxy with him?

He reached, gently cupped my face in both his hands. I held his eyes, wondering what one did in these sorts of situations. After all, I had never dared to even dream of such an end.

“Come here,” was all he said.

When I kissed him, my head bumped with the brim of his cap. Blindly, I reached up and plucked it from his head, allowing it to fall softly to the floor. My eyes flickered beneath my eyelids, my brain scrambled for a response- then something clicked, everything slowed down, and all cylinders fired, _just feel._

Like flicking a switch, something unfurled in me, unafraid of tomorrow, unafraid of the repercussions that dead men did not suffer. They told no tales, yes; but some tales held measures of pain, sorrow, suffering. Now, all we had was time. Precious time, to create some memory to sustain us in the bitter end.

I held my weight carefully over his, finally slouched onto my side and let him roll over me, kissing him greedily, feeling his hands coasting down the lengths of my body, raising gooseprickles on my arms and forcing my breath out in shudders. His palm fell like a brand on my hip, on the small sliver of exposed skin between waistband and rucked-up tank, as his head dipped into the crook of my neck to nuzzle gently at the sensitive skin there. I tipped my head with a sigh, exposing the vulnerable line of my throat, eyes sliding shut, sighing, “ _Jeff_.” His name, uttered as such, must have fallen on his ears like a plea, and he sat up just enough to work off my top, tossing it to meet the same end as his hat, letting me sit up and settle lightly into his lap to do the same for him. “Just…even weight distribution,” he told me, quietly, then sucked in a breath when I promptly sat with a bit of pressure on the swelling in his groin. “Ah…”

I skimmed hands up his sides, ducking my head to kiss along the line of one shoulder, hearing his sigh like a balm, the jump of his pulse under my thumb when I pressed it to the inside of his wrist. I shifted back and then closer still to claim his lips again, beard rubbing in a way I shouldn’t have liked as much as I did. I carded fingers through the short tufts of his hair, the exact taupe of a colored pencil I’d once had. His hands- bigger than mine, but softer yet- held firmly about my waist, then slid up behind me to the hook of my bra, flicking it open with a few minor difficulties that came out against my mouth like a disgruntled _hrmph,_ which made me smile and pull back to give him a quizzical stare, arms looped about his neck. Slowly, he slid the straps down to my elbows, and I pulled my forearms through the rest of the way, letting him toss the offensive garment aside with the rest.

If you’ve ever wondered if sighs can be articulate; they _can._ The sigh that Jeff uttered when our naked chests pressed together was exquisite, spoke a thousand words without every saying anything; words would have been too much. His hands snaked between us both, weighed the soft swells of my breasts with clever fingers, thumbs rubbing lightly and plucking at sensitive peaks. “ _Jeff_ ,” I sighed, again, into his ear. He rumbled, something like the shaking of the earth from the middle of his chest, pushed me gently down onto my back, onto the bedspread. His beard tickled when he first set to my collarbone, so at first I laughed, then I gasped, then I softly keened at the attentions of his tongue, teeth, lips, starting at the faint protrusion framing my neck, moving down, to each of my breasts, taking his time, the soft crevice between and the long line of my belly, nosing the divot there and the soft swell of my belly, kissing just above the button of my pants before pulling it open, tugging them down along with my underwear and making me the first one naked.

His eyes promised worship and untold delights; but he began simply stroking a hand up the length of my leg, to the ankle and back, setting my nerves alight, prompting another rush of heat between my thighs, a wetness growing there with every passing moment. He traced back up to my hips, pressing gentle circles there with his thumbs, shifting onto his side and tracing an idle hand down to my knee. Obligingly, I parted my thighs, just slightly, allowed him to trail fingers up the sensitive inner side. I shivered, skin erupting in prickles that made me realize suddenly, how cold the ship was when you weren’t wearing everything. Jeff and I had each other’s eyes, suddenly, and I bit on my lip to hide a grin, drawing my leg out the rest of the way, toes trailing delicately across the bedspread.

He took his time looking, first, taking in the visual feast with his eyes, pressing a thumb into the inside of my thigh and rubbing it back and forth. He looked up at me again, propped on my elbows, waiting for him to make his move. He accepted my challenging look and shifted forward onto his stomach, nipped at the crease of my thigh (I stifled a gasp), soothed the sharp sting with a soft kiss, and applied his attention to my cunt. And by attention I mean his mouth.

That stupid, sinful, _gorgeous_ mouth.

“Oh,” I said, faintly surprised, staring belligerently ahead. Then my fingers twisted into the sheets, I fell backward, and I moaned something unintelligible to the ceiling. Stupid fucker smiled while he was going to town. I had half a mind to pull on his hair just for that, but I ended up doing that anyway when he found the clitoris. Holy hell, ten points extra credit. And another thirty for knowing techniques besides _Hey, let’s go in circles. A small repetitive circle in this spot. This works, right?_

I sighed into the dark, back arching up when his tongue slid easily inside; went to show how fucking _good_ he was at this, that he knew about the…loosening of the…as a product of…oh… _oh._

He was as focused a lover as he was a helmsman, doing things with his tongue, lips, flashes of teeth that had me reeling out into the reaches of space- dark, stars just flashes of light in the distance- floating around in the final frontier with nothing to ground me, not when he was laying here with his head buried between my legs, making low contented noises that were almost as loud as the wet sounds of him working at me, knowing that _this_ was the memory he’d take with him to the end we faced. Gently, testing first to see if I was ready, he pressed one finger inside, rubbing the tender, unscarred, spasming flesh inside, pushing and pulling easily with the rhythmic press of my hips, moving the one easily in and out until he could push a second inside for a snug fit. I welcomed the stretch, brief sting remembering how long it had been, and the pull of his lips on my clit reminding me that was then and this was now.

I could feel the tingle of dark energy starting at the base of my spine, one of the signs that I was nearing oblivion, a point of being where my control would dissipate, where everything would collapse into one heady rush of sensation. Closer, closer, _there._ A long string of syllables meant to be shaped into words of gratitude, love, came out instead in a rush, and then I was suddenly lifting right off of the mattress.

I opened my eyes, looked down to him, still on the bed, then I smiled, holding out my hand. He took the opportunity to wiggle out of his pants first, then he took the hand up and joined me in my zero-gravity sphere, weightless, pressing in close for a kiss, holding onto my hips to stay anchored together as we spun, tumbled, slowly. Then he was nudging at my entrance, breathing heavily into my neck, and I wrapped my legs easily around his waist, taking him in with a soft, breathy “ _oh_ ” of completion.

I’ll probably kill my subconscious self later, when I reread this line…maybe even delete it before it makes the final draft.

We made love, unburdened by the weight of the world, with his soft sighs and moans next to my ear, his hands pulling me gently, then desperately, by turns, onto him, pushing me just slightly off, then pulling me back, crashing together like…like the tide. It all came back to the tides, the sea. In that respect, perhaps, the drell were right.

And perhaps they were correct in that some memories live forever. When we had both tumbled over the edges of ecstasy, floated gently down back onto the bed and settled beneath the covers, I could still feel the touch of his hands in the arm slung around my waist, the closeness of his body in his warmth just behind me, the heartfelt moans and utterances of my name like a litany in the soft, sleepy mumbles that twitched out of him now and then. He slept soundly; I dozed in and out of consciousness, looking occasionally at the clock- better than usual, insomniac I was- feeling a certain edge set to me when our time began to run out.

I slipped out from under his arm, went to the small basin in the corner of the room and cleaned up a bit; taking a washcloth to the insides of my thighs, where his semen had leaked out of me and mingled somewhat with the lingering fluids there and made it a bit sticky. After that I splashed a bit of water on my face, sighing and eyeing the clock again. We had perhaps twenty minutes before it was time to be up. Time to leave our dark sanctuary and hit the Relay.

I slid under the covers, nudged slightly at Jeff. He stirred, made a sleepy kind of “ _wuzat_ ” noise, and opened his eyes a fraction.

“Hey,” I said, softly. “It’s almost go time.”

My words registered for a moment, and then he was sitting up, rubbing at his eyes, stretching, yawning, and hunting for his clothes. I turned on the lamp, found my pants, and began to tug them on, stopping to pull my hair back before shrugging into my bra and making several attempts to hook it up- something I always needed at least two tries to do correctly.

“Here,” said Jeff, softly, and then he was behind me, hooking it for me and adjusting it to sit properly.

“Thanks,” I replied, quietly. Did we think speaking softly would forestall the end? Mortal minds were such fickle, silly things. I figured that was all right, if he kept smiling at me like that, touching my face and stroking that lock of hair back even though he knew it would just spring right back out.

We shared one more kiss there- long, deep, and slow, half-dressed, rumpled and obvious, probably smelling like sex, and not giving two shits. Some things could be pardoned in the face of death. “I love you,” he said again, when we pulled apart with a soft sound, lips still so close they brushed mine when they moved. “No matter what happens.” His hands braced on my biceps, and then he turned to tug his shirt on and bend for his hat.

And there he had gone and given me a reason to survive. I didn’t know what awaited us beyond the grave, but if we could get to the end of this with our lives intact, there was that…that promise, that glimmer of something for the future.

Besides. There were some who said I was bound for great things.


	25. A Miraculous Navigation, and an Old Enemy Served their Comeuppance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bum bum bum! So here begins the Suicide Mission...and I finally figured out how many chapters there'll be (23, if you hadn't noticed the change.)
> 
> Credit, as always, is to Bioware and their team and their lurvely people and voice actors for these games and ugh.
> 
> I'd like to take the time now to announce a few sequels! First, the sequel to "A Matter of Trust", the continuing adventures of Glenn and company occurring within the events of _Mass Effect 3_. Tentative working title is "A Matter of Pride", but that's subject to change. First, however, will be a short bridger story between the two (and by short I mean roughly five chapters), titled "Lair of the Shadow Broker". You can probably figure out what that's about. ;)
> 
> Until then, enjoy this new chapter, and the last few pieces of "A Matter of Trust"! Your kudos, comments, and bookmarks have kept me going. Don't forget to rec this to anyone looking for a good story, and as always, keep reading. <3

Charlie arrived at the helm in full battle armor, guns slung over her back, posture speaking of preparation and determination.

“About to hit the Relay, Commander,” said Jeff, banking the ship up along the red core of the Omega-4, warnings beginning to flash as the drive core spiked up to impossible levels.

“Oh shit, EDI, redirect power!” his hands flew across the interface. “Hold on,” he told us, “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”

I was already gripping tight to the back of his seat, wide-eyed at the streaky FTL before us. “Brace for deceleration!” EDI warned, and then there was debris everywhere.

“Oh, _shit_!” Jeff grabbed controls, and we pulled hard to port, dodging fragments of the lost ships, finally pulling up above the debris field and sitting back with a soft sigh. “Too close.”

Charlie sighed, scrubbed at her forehead, and scanned out the glass. “See if you can cruise in quiet. Avoid detection for now.”

Jeff hesitantly took to the controls, but he shook his head suddenly, speeding up on the interface. “Too late. We’ve got enemies on our four o’clock…six, nine- everywhere. Brace for evasive maneuvers!” the ship rolled, and rocked suddenly with the impact of enemy weapons. “As long as our new armor holds,” said Miranda, windmilling her arms to balance.

It did, until EDI alerted us, “Hull breach in the cargo hold!”

Charlie straightened up. “I’ll take a team down and deal with it. Miranda, with me.” the two hurried back down the CIC, and I launched towards the co-pilot’s scene, half-thrown by another jolt, landing haphazardly in the seat and pulling up the interface. “EDI, give me heat signatures and NavPoint on all crewmates.” A scan of the _Normandy_ popped up and seventeen points ignited on all levels- the dots labeled _M. LAWSON, C. SHEPARD,_ and _T. KRIOS_ were all headed for the cargo bay, which was displaying a red blob labeled as a hostile, moving through a marked breach in the hull.

“How’s the armor holding?”

“It is holding, Glenn.”

“What about the shields?”

“They are being maintained.”

“Prep the main gun; have it ready to fire at a moment’s notice, got it?” I snapped.

“Yes, Glenn.”

“Aw, shit, I’m gonna have to take it to the debris field to lose ‘em,” said Jeff, and then the _Normandy_ dove sharply back into the mess of floating ships, broken pieces and shattered vessels. One of the thrusters started flashing red after bouncing off of the hull of a large, ancient cruiser.

“Drive core at critical levels!” fretted EDI.

“Reroute all noncritical power to the barriers!” I barked, “This is gonna hurt.” We skidded off some more debris, rolled to the side, Jeff’s hands flew on the interface, “Come on, come on, make some room-”

And suddenly, we were free. “How’d we do, EDI?” I murmured, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Barriers stable at forty percent,” she replied. “The core has returned to safe operating levels.”

“Good,” I sighed, but not a second later she piped up, “Hostiles have reentered the cargo bay.”

“Them again?” Jeff said. We shared a look, he shook his head. “This one’s up to Shepard.”

After a few intense minutes, Charlie returned with Miranda, tugged off her helmet, said, “It’s taken care of.”

“It’ll stay dead this time,” added Miranda.

Jeff looked them both over, turned back to the windows. “We’re almost clear of the debris field.”

Charlie leaned in over our chairs, narrowed her eyes at the huge, hive-like structure looming ahead. “Is that the Collector Base?”

“Has to be,” murmured Miranda, moving in behind us.

“Wait up a minute,” I piped up. “Hang on, there’s a hatch opening.” I zoomed in on the approaching vessel. “Looks like they’re sending in an old friend to greet us.” The by-now familiar yellow laser of the Collector cruiser fired, and we dodged its oscillating path with a few quick, hard banks. Now Charlie’s bad bitch face came on in full swing, and she said, “Time to show ‘em our new teeth. Fire the main gun.”

Jeff pulled forward the weapons, and punched the command for FIRE. The scan displayed the Thanix cannons rolling out, pooling their energy beams, and we all saw the fire out the front glass. The relativistic plasmid metal struck the laserbeam right at its source, and brimstone and fire poured out at the bombarded hull. “How do you like _that,_ you sons of bitches?” Jeff cried a victory, tossing his hands up in the air.

“Go in close and finish them off,” Charlie ordered, and the _Normandy_ accelerated, pulled in close, dodged the now-lagging and choppy laser, and fired another blast that sheared the cruiser right in half. Jeff punched the air and I grinned, but that deteriorated rapidly when several proximity warnings flashed across my UI.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” said Jeff, “Hold on.” We pulled sideways from the initial blasts, but the main explosion hit us like a brick wall, and we began to plummet down towards the vertical surface of the base. “Brace for impact! _All hands brace for impact_!” he pulled up hard, yanked us parallel to the base, and then we were crashing.

There were a few seconds of blackness, a dizzying ringing in the ears, and then we were coming to, getting up. “Everyone okay?” Charlie asked.

“Think I broke a rib,” Jeff groaned, gritting his teeth and sucking in a pained breath. “All of them,” he added, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again. “You’re gonna have to go on from here, though, Commander.”

“The _Normandy_ ’s systems have sustained moderate damage,” said EDI. “Repairs will take some time, Shepard.”

“We all knew this was likely a one-way trip,” said Miranda, her brows knitting together in a way that suggested she wasn’t at all prepared for that conclusion.

I checked my interface, and then powered it off. “Well, no casualties from the approach. I’m gonna kick the Collectors in their daddybags; I don’t know ‘bout the rest of you; but I plan to live to tell about it.”

“Glad you’re on our side,” Jeff muttered, with a humorless chuckle.

Charlie leaned on the back of my chair. “Is the _Normandy_ safe in this location? How long do you think we have before the Collectors find it.”

“I’m detecting no internal alarm system,” EDI responded. “It is possible the Collectors did not anticipate anyone reaching the base.”

Charlie stood up, then, with a nod. “All right. We’ll leave you to work the repairs.” She pressed her earpiece. “Team, report to the briefing room; prepared to move out immediately after.” She turned, without another word, for the lift, Miranda following loyally after.

I watched them go, looked then to Jeff, chewing on my lip. He was already looking at me. “Go,” he told me. “I’ve gotten you here,” he crooked half a smile, held out a hand and took the one I pressed into his to his mouth to briefly kiss my knuckles. “Now go kick some ass.”

I smiled, stood up, and hurried down for the briefing room. The team was gathered in full standard, decked out, loaded, ready to go.

“There’s an entrance not far from here,” Charlie told us, “And another one close by. We could split into two teams, confuse the Collectors, and regroup here.” She tapped a spot on the hologram that was showing huge energy emissions.

“I am detecting large energy emissions from this area,” said EDI, a beat later. “This is likely the central chamber.”

“If the colonists and our crew are alive, that’s where the Collectors will be holding them,” Paxton muttered, watching the hologram, half-shadowed, charmed and dangerous.

“From there we can bypass to the station core,” Charlie indicated. “We’ll overload the main reactor; and blow it all to hell.”

Jacob shook his head, arms (forever) crossed. “Good plan, but it’s a no-go. Both entrances are blocked; you’d need someone to open it from the inside.”

“Then there has to be another way.” John stepped forward, squinting with infiltrator’s eyes for a vantage point. “What about this vent shaft? We could send someone through to get the doors open from the other side.”

“Practically a suicide mission,” said Jacob, standing and folding his hands behind his back. “I volunteer.”

“I appreciate the thought, Jacob, but you’d never get the doors open in time,” Miranda chipped in. “We need to send someone to bypass that door- a tech expert.” She looked to Charlie. “It’s your call, Shepard.”

Charlie glanced briefly around the room, her eyes finally landing on Tali. “Tali, you’re a tech expert. Can you get in there and get those doors?”

The young quarian stood straighter, folding her arms behind her back. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good.” Charlie looked back amongst us all. “I’ll take Thane and Legion through with me alongside the shaft, to make sure Tali gets through. The rest of you will form a fire team and head in the other way to keep the pressure off. Once we get the doors open, we regroup and go from there.” She scanned the group. “Garrus,” she said, “You’ll lead that fire team.”

He stood up straighter. “Aye aye, Commander.”

Charlie nodded. The hologram dropped, she eyed us all, and she began to pace slowly back and forth. “We don’t know how many the Collectors have stolen,” she began. “Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. It’s not important.” She shook her head. “What matters is this: Not. One. More.” She jabbed her finger at us. “ _That’s_ what we can do here today. It ends with us. They want to know what we’re made of? I say we show them, on our terms.” I rolled my shoulders, cracked my knuckles, and let the corona flare. Charlie braced her hands on the table, leaned forward to all of us. “Let’s bring our people home.”

Not ten minutes later we were marching into hell; Thane, Legion, and Charlie heading with Tali for the first entrance, Garrus and the rest walking towards the second. I stood there for a moment, in the threshold, watching them go, a hesitant hand on the bay doorframe, a second brushing the Carnifex strapped to my thigh. It was something I wish could have been immortalized; the proud and the few taking to a sacrifice- members of species not even human, undertaking a mission that few would know, where a death would mean nothing but to a few souls- and that was if any of us lived to see this through and emerge victorious; triumphant on the other side of the relay.

“Well, go on,” said Jeff, and I looked behind me to see him braced also on the doorframe, half-smiling.

“I know,” I said, quickly, looking back to them. “I know. Just…” I sighed, hanging my head. “My whole life I’ve felt like an outsider. Even in…” I stopped. “No matter the circumstances, what anyone said…I was never really sure I was even welcome. I felt like an observer to life. Like I was meant to catalogue experience instead of…you know, living it.”

He took my hand and squeezed it. I looked at him, held his eyes. He moved in, kissed me, our faces hidden under the visor of his cap. “Then I’m sure you’ll have a hell of a story to tell when you come back.”

A silence. “Can you promise I will come back?”

His half-sad smile spoke the truth. “Does it matter?”

“Dead men tell no tales,” I said, blinking. “It matters.”

He squeezed my hand again. “Then yeah.” He let me go, and moved back for his seat. “You’re coming back.” He looked at me for a moment, maybe contemplating something else to say, but he just nodded and turned back to the console. I watched him for a moment longer; unable to stay, unwilling to leave- then I heard the voices of my teammates calling, telling me to move my ass so we could go kick some ass. I turned, grinned, jumped out of the doors and ran after them to catch up.

Figures I’d only find my club when impending death prompted a little initiative.


	26. An Odds-Defying Infiltration, a Long End Run, a Final Face-Off, and a Line Held

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said it'd be 23 chapters? I lied. Well, I present the suicide mission, hopefully I made it at least half as good as the actual playing of it (probably not, but oh well. Only one chapter left, guys!) Credit to Bioware...enjoy.

Collectors, Collectors, more Collectors. Then we were at the doors, and they weren’t opening. For three seconds, I was sure it was the end. Then they flew open, and slammed shut behind us. “Get the doors closed, Tali!” Charlie was barking.

“I’m trying!” she cried. “Something…it’s wrong, they’re stuck!”

Garrus was running forward, and I followed, rifle in hand. “Suppress fire! No one gets through that door!” the Collectors fell like dominoes, and then the doors, as if pulled shut by a determined giant, slammed shut. We stepped back, with a sigh of relief. Charlie sagged against the doors. “Good work, Tali. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

I wiped my forehead off, turned around, and gaped. “Holy shit,” I said, to no one in particular. Then: “Shepard. You’ve got to see this.”

Charlie stepped forward, and eyed one of the pods. “One of the colonists,” she said, looking in.

Suddenly, the woman opened her eyes. “Oh my god.” she began to scream, beating on the glass, beginning- to my great alarm- to disintegrate. “She’s still alive! Get them out of those pods, now!”

The team set to bashing in the pods, breaking the glass or prying it off outright. The colonist was lost, but as we worked frantically, our crew began to emerge. Charlie herself yanked the obstructing screen from the last one, stepped back, and caught the last remaining survivor as she fell. “Dr. Chakwas,” she helped the older woman into a sitting position, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Shepard…” she blinked, dazedly, rubbing her eyes. “You came for us.”

“No one gets left behind,” said Charlie, lowly, determinedly. She stood back up, and took a head count- as far as I could tell, they were all there; minus the few that Joker had described falling to the Collectors.

“Thank God you got here in time,” said Kelly. “A few more seconds and…I don’t even want to think about it.”

“The colonists were…processed,” said Chakwas. “Those swarms melted their bodies into grey liquid and pumped it through those tubes.”

I examined one of the pipelines with Mordin, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes. “What would they want with our genetic material?”

“Hard to say,” said Mordin. “Many possible outcomes. Endless hypotheses. Likely impossible to tell until found for certain.” I nodded, and returned to the group, crossing my arms.

“How do we go from here?” Miranda moved up to ask. Charlie looked ahead, where the path branched off two different ways. “We’ll split again. Miranda, you take the fire team this time, understand?”

Miranda nodded.

“ _Negative,_ ” EDI broke in. _“The passage ahead of you is full of seeker swarms. Mordin’s countermeasure cannot protect you against so many at once._ ”

I thought for a moment, frowning. “Then there has to be some other way. They couldn’t break through a solid barrier- what about biotics?”

“This is true,” Samara stepped forward. “I could maintain a small biotic field- I couldn’t take everyone through, but I could manage a small team.”

“In theory any biotic could handle it,” said Miranda. “Who do you want to take, Shepard?”

Charlie looked around the group. She blinked as she scanned us all, then, suddenly, her eyes landed on me. “Glenn,” she said. “You’ll maintain the biotic field.”

I thought of objecting…then I shook my head, stood a little straighter, said, “I’ve got this, Charles.”

“I know you do,” she said. Something passed between us then- trust, respect, understanding.

Then, Dr. Chakwas spoke again- “What about the crew, Commander?” I turned to their tired ranks; scared, traumatized. “We’re in no shape to fight.”

“We can’t afford to turn back now,” said Miranda.

“Not all of us.” Charlie shot her a look through narrowed eyes. “Mordin,” she said, “You’ll escort them back. Rendezvous with the _Normandy_ and make sure everyone gets there safe.”

Mordin raised his omni-tool. “Joker. Send coordinates, will meet you there.”

“We’ve held together so far,” said Charlie, looking us over, brows furrowed, mouth tight. “Let’s make this second wind as good as the first. Move out!” I followed after her, and she turned and gestured Thane and Zaeed forward along with us.

As I heard the approaching clicks of the swarms, I put the barrier up, wide enough to give the three of them some maneuverability, and said, “Ready to move when you are.”

Charlie nodded, and gestured forward. “Let’s go.”

I walked through the storm- the swarms were relentless, everywhere, all around us, pinging off of my barrier. We walked for a bit, until the oncoming roar of Harbinger signaled us to our enemies’ arrival: “ _Assuming control._ ”

I grabbed cover. “Finish ‘em off, Charles,” I said, and hid.

I focused on maintaining the barrier, recalling Thane’s meditation techniques: blocking out all but the flow of dark energy and the attempted breaches. “ _I am the harbinger of your destiny,_ ” hissed the Collector General, making me grit my teeth against the fear lacing its way through my spine like ice. “ _I will tear you apart._ ” Zaeed dove into my cover, reloaded his rifle, spared me a brief glance, then popped up, yelling, “’Ey, Harbinger! I know _this_ hurts you, you son of a bitch.” The threats stopped, and I looked to him and very sincerely said, “I could kiss you right now.”

“We’re ready to move,” said Charlie, cocking her rifle, and I climbed out of cover, hands still up, and continued along down the way. As we rounded the corner I heard the moans of husks; and amid the clicking of prepping guns I hid behind cover. This time it seemed only husks came after us; I thought I heard Harbinger once, but I couldn’t be sure. I was focusing hard enough on maintaining the barrier, I could feel the swarms pushing harder on the bubble, so I collapsed it somewhat in some attempt to be able to hold it longer.

“Shepard, we’ve…” I fought. “Charles…need to…get there…soon.”

“Come on,” worriedly, she looked at me. Zaeed popped another heat sink, and nodded his head towards the corridor, an obvious _get a move on_ face put on. Charlie and Thane followed as I rounded the corner. More moaning, and I could have cried- _husks? Now?_ Charlie pulled a shotgun, to my enormous relief, and blew the head off of one that was crawling up the side of the catwalk. Zaeed sprayed another down with the Vindicator, and when I raised my head and blinked through the sweat, I could see the door. “I…can see the end…got to…” I poured my strength into the barrier, took off at as best a run I could manage, the others shooting down the husks that got in my way- I ran, took us straight to the entrance and whirled around, reaching deep inside to some dark place, pulling out some unknown strength; and shot out a huge biotic shockwave with a mighty “AAAAAA _AAAAAAARGHH_!”

According to what everyone else remembers, the swarms were forced back and I stumbled away as the second fire team came running in, Miranda stopping by the doors to count and usher everyone in. “Go, go, go!” Tali hurried to close the doors, but one stray slug got through and grazed her, she stumbled.

“Miranda!” Charlie went to her, but she steadied herself, shook her head, and showed that her catsuit had only been torn. “Ready for action, Commander.”

As for me, I missed all of that, because I had fallen flat on my ass and experienced some sort of head trauma, flying through a mess of memories I didn’t even know I had, looking at DNA helicases and structures belonging to different species- it was John who knelt over me, shook me a little. “Glenn.”

“-wha? ...Shepard,” I said, blinking heavily, putting a hand to a pounding temple. “What was…”

“That was one of the biggest displays I’ve ever seen,” he said, helping me up to my feet. “Your eyes…they’d gone black.”

I rubbed a hand to my forehead, blinking. “Well, shit. I think I embraced eternity. Or…I was in the middle of it, at least.” I patted his shoulder. “Thanks. I was seeing genes. Any longer and I might’ve gotten pregnant. And there would have been no way to tell whose it was.” I dusted myself off, took a deep breath, sighed. “I’m ready to go, Charles.”

“ _Commander, Mordin’s team just got here,”_ Joker came in over the channel, and his voice was a beautiful thing. “ _Everyone accounted for, no casualties._ ”

“Do we push on together?” Paxton asked.

“ _Negative_ ,” said EDI, “ _I am detecting large numbers of hostiles on the other side of the doors. They will be through in minutes.”_

Charlie nodded, her mouth pressing into a thin, grim line, observed the door with her brows furrowed. “I’ll take a small team through with me to the center. The rest of you will stay back and hold the line.” She observed us all. “Thane, Miranda, Glenn, with me.”

The three of us moved forward, climbed up with her onto the platform. “I am ready, Siha,” said Thane, and Miranda added, “So am I. Anything else you want to say before we do this?”

Charlie nodded, looked out over everyone. “The Collectors, the Reapers- they aren’t a threat to us, they’re a threat to everything, everyone. _Those_ are the lives we’re fighting for. _That’s_ the scale.” She paced to the left. “It’s been a long journey, and no one’s coming out without scars.” There was the loud _whump_ that meant Grunt was raring to go. “But it all comes down to this moment.” She returned to the center. “We win or lose it all in the next few minutes. Make me proud…make yourselves proud.”

“We will, Shepard,” said Samara. “Good luck.” The team called their encouragements after us as the platform detached, floated away towards the center of the base.

There were several more obstacles in place on the way there- more platforms, more Harbinger, more husks and two Scions in the end (grossnasty) - but finally, we made our way into the central part of the base, looking already for the core.

“ _Shepard, I am detecting a large structure in the next room,_ ” EDI alerted us, as we hovered near the entrance. “ _It is…massive. And it is emitting both organic and synthetic signatures.”_ A pause, and the platform stalled slightly before hovering over the lip of the entryway into the chamber. “ _If my assumptions are correct…this structure…is a Reaper._ ”

I had to stifle a huge gasp (probably would have choked) as we hovered inside, and took in the sight for our own eyes. “Not just any Reaper,” murmured Charlie, “A _human_ Reaper.”

At last, the question of the experiments solved. Four injection tubes, presumably pumping the genetic sludge, suspended the human Reaper larva over the chasm. The colossal atrocity was undoubtedly mechanic, but it bore the unmistakable skull shape, facial structure, and shoulders and arms of a human. There were some nonconformities (such as the third eye and the exposed heart), but the guise was inimitable.

“This thing is an abomination,” said Charlie, lowly. “EDI, how do we destroy it?”

“ _The sites of the injection tubes are weak structural links,_ ” she replied, “ _Destroying them will cause the human Reaper to fall._ ”

“You heard her,” said Charlie, raising her rifle. “Take those tubes out.” we each targeted a tube, and opened fire on it. In turn, almost all at once, they shattered under the barrage of our guns: two immediately breaking  under pounding assault rifles, another sporting spiderwebbing cracks until the final SMG shot breached it, and one exploding like a mercenary’s head with one shot of Thane’s Viper. The tubes broke under pressure, and the metal machine went tumbling away into the depths, out of sight.

Charlie moved about the platforms, muttering to herself, and then found the reactor core, pulling it up. She pressed her earpiece. “This is Omaha 1 checking in, status report.”

“ _We’re holding_ ,” came John, “ _But we’ve got a shit-ton of Collectors coming at us. Be best if we can get out of here soon._ ”

“Got it.” she twisted the frequency. “Rendezvous with the _Normandy_ at the appropriated location. Joker?”

“ _Got it, Commander, but…I’m getting a call from the Illusive Man. I’ll patch him through._ ” Miranda powered on her omni-tool, and a hologram of a middle-aged man in a suit flickered on. _So that’s the infamous bastard,_ I mused, crossing my arms to hide my clenching fists. “Shepard,” he said. “Good work. You’ve made it into the Base core.” He took a long drag on a cigarette.

“I’m just getting started,” she said, turning to scowl at him. “I’m blowing this base to all hell, and we’re just waiting on extraction.”

“Wait a moment,” said the Illusive Man, and Charlie turned to look at him. “Look at the technology around this place. Think, Shepard, we could use this against the Reapers. The best way to win is to turn their own tech against them.”

“I don’t know,” said Miranda, uncomfortable. “Using anything in here feels like a betrayal.”

“They _processed_ humans here, this place is an abomination!” snarled Charlie. “Next thing I know you’ll want to grow your own Reaper.”

“You’ve made it this far,” said the Illusive Man. “You’ve avenged them all. Using a radiation pulse, you could kill the Collectors, and leave the Base intact. We could have a real chance at defeating them.”

“You’re deluded,” I snapped. The Illusive Man turned, regarded me coldly, said, “Ah. Subject 82n, I believe.” Another drag on the cigarette. “Your growth record was…disappointing. We here were hoping for stronger biotics, a possible capacity for mental connectivity.”

I thought to get angry with him, but instead a sudden calm took over me suddenly, and I told him, “Then you should have left me an asari.”

He scowled, and turned to Charlie. “Shepard…”

“I’m not going to leave this,” she said. “I came here to destroy it and that’s what I’m going to do.”

The Illusive Man turned then to Miranda. “Miranda, do _not_ let Shepard destroy the base.”

“I don’t think I’m going to stop her,” said Miranda.

“I gave you an _order,_ Miranda,” he spat.

“I noticed,” she said, “Consider this my resignation.” She cut the transmission.

Charlie straightened up. “All right,” she said. “We’ve got ten minutes before this place goes sky-high-” just then the ground rumbled, a huge metal shriek echoed from below, and an unwelcome guest shot up into the sky, squalling like a million nails on a mile of glass. The human Reaper was back. And not happy.

“That was _not_ on the travel brochure,” I said.

“ _Cover_!” screamed Charlie. We ducked, rolled.

“How the hell do we do this?” I cried.

“There are several weak points in its construction,” said Thane, "if we could weaken its integrity-” I looked around at our company. “I say, Miranda and I overload and hope it stalls- it’ll buy us at least a few seconds; then we all pop up and hit it with our best biotic punch, right?”

“And if that fails?” Miranda was staring wide-eyed at me.

“Shoot ‘til we run out of ammo,” I said, popping the heat sink on my pistol and readying my omni-tool. “Overload on three?”

She pulled hers up. The Illusive Man was calling again, I noticed. “Ready?”

She nodded.

“One… Two…” the Reaper screamed. “ _THREE_!” we punched the button- there was a distorted scream, and a shower of sparks. “WARP NOW!” we popped up, shot a huge combined strike at the Reaper’s exposed heart. The machine groaned, swaying, and we pulled guns and opened fire.

 _That_ proved to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back- the Reaper swayed, fell, but not before knocking our platform loose, sending us plummeting- Charlie went sliding down for the edge and I dove down after her, reaching for her hand, grasping it for half a second, nearly losing her and grabbing her wrist at the last second before she fell down after the Reaper. “Got you,” I grunted, and pulled her up onto the spinning, falling platform, rolling and tumbling as it crashed down below.

I blacked out for several minutes, woke again as Charlie pulled a piece of metal scaffolding off of me, and hoisted me to my feet. “ _Your minions have failed,_ ” we heard, turned behind us to see Collectors and seeker swarms coming for us. Off we ran, together, toward the end, towards the _Normandy_ ’s approaching port side. “ _Your species has the attention of those infinitely superior._ ” The side hatch opened, and there was Jeff providing cover fire with an Avenger that had to be bruising him with the recoil, and _fuck all_ if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen- “ _We will find another way._ ” Thane, Miranda, and I ran across the platforms to the airlock. A falling piece of debris knocked the platforms away, Charlie froze, turned briefly behind her, took a running leap across the gap.

“Shepard!” Miranda yanked out her SMG, I pulled the rifle and joined the barrage of covering fire, and when Charlie gripped onto the edge by her fingertips, Thane leaned to pull her up.

“ _Releasing control._ ”

We hurried inside to the cockpit, the crew was inside waiting, Jeff threw aside the rifle and sat in the chair, EDI was counting down, “Detonation in ten, nine, eight, seven-”

“We get the idea, EDI!” barked Jeff, hands dancing on the interface like they did over my skin, skillfully, expertly, “Get us out of here!”

We took off, outrunning the explosion, fighting against the fire behind us, gripping onto anything, some of us falling flat over. “Come on, baby, come on…”

Then, suddenly, there was only blue streaks of light, fading into black. We dared to open our eyes, and look out.

“We have cleared the Omega-4 Relay,” said EDI. “Returned to Sahrabarik system, Omega Nebula. Congratulations.”

A huge, almighty cheer went up at that- Charlie was halfway through counting heads when Thane seized her and didn’t let her finish- John was shouting something about no one gets left behind and that’s what happens when you fuck with the Shepards, Kasumi was sobbing “We made it out, we all made it out,” Garrus was spinning Pax around. I let out a huge breath, looked to Jeff with an inconsolable grin, and kissed him with as much force as I could muster, rejoicing, basking, we were _alive, I was alive._

I was alive. And I wasn’t alone.


	27. An Official Discordance and a Weather Eye to the Horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asldjhlasdh THE LAST CHAPTER.
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for reading, reviewing, and leaving kudos; bookmarking and everything. Keep an eye out, everyone, for Lair of the Shadow Broker and A Matter of Pride.
> 
> Credit to Bioware; for inspiring these truly magical games- to the voice actors, for bringing these characters for life- for giving me a damn good ride. (The best.)
> 
> I've found this chapter is best when read while "Science and Magic" from the Thor soundtrack plays. ;)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. <3

That wasn’t quite the end, of course. Charlie made a report to the Illusive Man, only to promptly tell him to screw off. I believe her exact words were _lose this channel, Joker._

Everyone had a party. A crazy, wild, “nobody died” party. Being me, introvert I was, I only stayed to mingle a little, have a few drinks- then I retired. Not to the surveillance room, though; to the helm.

Suffice to say; hours later, there were clothes littering the bridge, the chair was reclined, and a blanket lay cozily over me and Jeff; after he had held tight to me, traced every one of the spiraling lines of my tattoos, ankles up to clavicles, out to each wrist and back. I nuzzled happily, quietly into his chest, sighing contentedly. He echoed the sound, petting his fingers through my hair.

“You know,” he spoke after a while, “I always wanted to…fly out somewhere. Just…take a ship, fly out, and orbit some star. Just sit there, you know, have a beer, maybe.”

“Mm,” I hummed, burrowing further into the crook of his neck. “Maybe we can get you a cruiser with all of those Cerberus funds we still have lying around.”

He shook his head- I felt the motion, and I opened my eyes and looked up at him, readjusting my head’s resting place. “No,” he said. “No, no ship’s like the _Normandy._ No other ship has the drift…the handling, the power…”

“You’re in love with the ship,” I teased.

“I’m the helmsman!” he protested. “It is an occupational hazard. A proprietary occupational hazard.” He squeezed me tighter to his side. “You’re both my girls.”

I snorted, tilted my head into the crook of his neck again, closed my eyes.

A few moments passed. He sighed again, contentedly.

I opened my eyes a hair, looked out to the stars beyond, the unexplored clusters, the systems, the worlds- each could have their own form of life, each life had a story of its own. I blinked softly, said, “Jeff?”

For a moment, he didn’t reply- then, a sleepy, half-coherent, “Hm?”

I burrowed into his side, tangling our legs together and resting my hand on his chest. “I love you too,” I said.

There was no immediate response, but I felt his jaw pull with a smile, and he hugged me closer to him, pressing a kiss to the side of my temple. I closed my eyes, yawned, and drifted away into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Pssst. Want the face codes used to make some of the characters in the story? Here they are:_
> 
> GLENN: 751.A3P.ECW.W1W.EFW.85W.11P.81Q.A76.115.6G5.965
> 
> CHARLIE SHEPARD: 753.19W.WW1.W1W.A1W.16W.1A1.71L.966.4F5.A65
> 
> PAXTON SHEPARD: 753.19L.LP6.R1W.A1L.46W.1A1.71L.966.4F7.565.72A


End file.
